There’s something Dad’s been telling us that I don’t think is true

"I need a male friend, and I think I've found one."

The man who will lead you can be nothing if not already found underneath the light-heartedness of heaven, (dawn) if not under the light-heartedness of snow. He would have to have happiness already sewn into his soul. He bears no burdens

Now the house is empty of romance except a potted flowering plant from my mother for Valentine's Day. No man has set foot in my museum since I moved here. One man has set foot. The owner's brother to see about the gasket under the toilet. The Comcast installers, twice. The…

Sometimes I think there's an octopus in my stomach. In the mornings it stretches and droops its lazy head to one side — It suctions it's tentacles to the walls of my belly and pulls them together forcing me To gag, and vomit what we didn't digest of the…

“It's a combination of ‘Survivor' and ‘College Bowl' says Sister Mary Agnesita, the show's host. “We take four very strict nuns and match them up with boys who were cut-ups in their grade school classes."

. . . I just didn’t think to call the mortician from the phone outside the grocer’s store, how gauche that would have sounded to any passers-by, a call to a mortuary from outside a grocer’s store!

The young monk rose early to jog, his appetites trailing like cats in heat.

These fern-like weeds grow along the roads. “Watch this,” you say, bending down over a plant. The touch of your fingertip sets it recoiling, stunned–a fun, jungle trick you picked up somewhere along your way.

She said it feels wrong. Too wet, she said. I snickered, she smacked.

I heard a voice. It was calling me as from a far-off cloud. I listened, holding my breath, and heard it again, though fading away, barely audible. If I hadn't known my name I wouldn't have decrypted it. Three hazy syllables clearly detached with a sigh between each of them.…

Border town meant one thing; we were caught up real good in the middle of something preternaturally dangerous; and understanding was at the very least a hundred miles or so away in either direction. All I…

From outside it looked abandoned. We lived at the top of a dead end hill. The grass was high and brown, the bricks in the driveway were crooked, caved in. The winter was mild; rotten crabapples, half-frozen, lined the end of the road. This was my house.

"Man, I'd love to do coke chopped up with the remains of this motherfucker," he said as the unicorn's head smacked against the screen of his netbook for the 12,364th time.

one day the words will form an order, one day the words will make a rhyme, one day the words will make a meaning