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Five

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"It all began with a painting," I said. "Mostly blue. Acrylic. Naturalistic in a modern sense. She was stylized but recognizable, and her breasts were exposed. Everyone could see her disordered skirt. The painter was a fan of Herrick.

The Fat Man and the Magician

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The Fat Man took a sip of whiskey, then replaced his glass on the table next to his fedora. …

Gilbert B Fumbleberry

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“You know, Miss Viv, I love looking at the sun when it’s almost gone. It kinda looks like an orange and apple squished together. Those are the colors. And the puffy clouds under it look like a bed. It’s going to sleep."

August, now and after

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I'll see her this fall, a redhead in camo

Isn't It Funny How Some People Don't Think They're Contemptibly Stupid?

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[VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.]

last attempt at innocence

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When we were leaving to go to the ice rink, Lynda surprised all of us by saying she wanted to come along. She slid all the way over in the front seat to be next to me, while one of my buddies, Miller, who had his eye on her himself, slid into the passen

More from The Chronicles of His Demise

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Dread and drudgery sour each day

Edward Ogle the Andy

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Concrete coffeecake drumbeat gyrate Andy Rooney ran a meter.

I Don't Know How the Nights Can Be So Long When Life Is So Short

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I will always remember that picture of you in your bright blue summer dress, with your arms spread out against a wooden fence in Central Park.

#53 Cut Up

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I loved her when she first came calling in the sodden dawn of spring. She was a strange and dangerous flower. Together we drank up all the money. The days staggered away like drunks lurching down a flophouse hall.

...until love lasts.

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She didn't know why she thought the ring wouldn't fit her finger, but it slid on easily and effortlessly, coming to rest in the old familiar place it always had, the groove that had worn in her finger after seven years of wearing it. She hadn't worn it in a few months,…

The Hors d’oeurves Plate at the OH Townhouse, Eureka

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They got slices of greasy salami On top of round mini carrots, celery Pepperoncini, slices of sweet pickles They got cinder block walls A Tiki Bar with glasses hanging Upside down from the stemware over the bar They got wood paneling, cottag

postscript

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the sand is hot to walk upon so you must run if caught there w/out footwear. it is like a painter has colored the sea and made parts of it dark blue yet other areas green. little birds jump around the fine grain world and that is when you wonder where they came…

Five Million Yen: Chapter 66

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Jack Krackenthorpe, Director-General of MI-5, sat alone drinking tea in Lee Ho Fook, a third-rate Chinese restaurant in Soho a mile from his Curzon Street office.

Working Animal

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There is an air of sulfur about you. I cannot tell if / it emanantes from you, or it is the stink of your clothes / from having been in hell for so long.

Round Dance

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Cold smoke from the crater Breathes on our eyelashes; The abysmal emptiness held Its breath just once.

I Wonder

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I wonder what it would be like to dog-paddle in the middle of the ocean. I wonder how Jean Auguste Ingres got the flesh tones for “Odalisque.” I wonder if bees have dreams.

Blame It on The Good Stuff

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That was nearly two years and a thousand smiles ago.

Before the Divorce

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Me leaving is not the confirmation of all your fears. It is not. It's because of them.

gravelortian part 25

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I come up and out of the hole onto a village street in the middle of a parade celebrating the arachnid god.

Panic Pure

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He said, “It was only after I broke my neck and even like maybe a year later that I really started realizing that I had something to say.”

Sushi's Night Out

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... she’d stolen her boyfriend away from her, leaving her with a goldfish and a cat. Oh, and a pillow and some lights, she added. And I can’t really see you, because I’m blind.

The Chair

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His thoughts drifted to when he was a kid, to the monthly trip to the barber.

To the Folksinger Just Arrived

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Whisper salutations to your irises

SUNRISE

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There is a false dawn, when night still holds sway, but tempered with promise; anticipation.

Against Poetry

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If you had a choice, be a poet or not, I’d suggest prose for the lines that you jot.

High Fives

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They pull up to the curbside and he jumps out to shake the hands in that familiar men’s grasp/shake they do when saluting each other. If that isn’t his daughter it should be, the one sitting in his car, with her door wide open.

Things that blow up

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For as long as John could remember, he loved to blow up things. It started back in grade school with firecrackers and cherry bombs—he would put them in toys, tin cans, shit like that to see what would happen. Then he advanced to stronger stuff, M-80s. Skip and…

The Prompter

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Here is a not remembering

Five Million Yen: Chapter 71

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It was that awkward time when one didn’t know if the night’s lover wanted to see you again.