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Some friends of mine took him for a ride out to Broad Channel, you know that enclave of crazies that live in houses on stilts on the island in Jamaica Bay on Cross Bay Boulevard. He might find that when the tide comes in, the water might be a little deepe
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Goodbye comes in stages. At first you recognize that you will “miss” someone when they are gone. Then you have to accept the fact that they are leaving. And finally accept the fact that they are gone; and not particularly in that order. If only it
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POETRY IS DEGENERACY / IS A DISGUSTING HABIT
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A minute later, a shadow appeared across the left-hand page of the book.
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"At a bare minimum it deserves to be a major cult hit."
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...he had that same grin, better than a racy French picture.
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This time is different. The dream doesn’t continue with endless walking.
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In the neon light and barroom shadows,
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The fuckers tumble out of the bathroom like clowns from a tiny car. The girl has these huge tits and dark red hair. She rushes past me, smelling like chocolate. A guy's behind her, holding onto the back of her jeans. He's not good looking enough to…
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Lately, instead of the images of dreams waking me up, as has always been the case, it is sounds that jolt me awake. The thumps and roars and slithering of creatures unseen. The ghosts that slam cupboards shut. The apparitions of robbers breaking down the front door:…
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for Tracy ThornYou don't need a song about fixed stars, you needa reason to be glad stars are here. Themoon's always been around, but not always like the friend you want,until now. Don't throw it all away becauseyou are too sad to care. You've come into your own. Allthings…
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And in the dark caves a new secret, hidden from flyby probes and the imagination of men. In these new caves, names for the loved ones, Bradbury, Clarke, Rover
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Speaking in tongues
untranslatable,
they move in experimental spacesuits,
uneasy in the other's gravity.
(To say nothing of the difficulty of dancing.)
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Jo was tailored, Amy was frivolous with ribbons and bows, Meg was plain and sensible; and Beth, who was ill and had no costume changes, wore the same nightgown throughout the dress-up session.
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Tonight’s concert was called Desert.
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In the tumbled-down now there's too much material, culled from pretty boys that don't notice me and tattooed ones that do, and I'm certain there's at least one dreamer soaking eyes into me who knows all the twisted lyrics invoking pretty little horses.
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I'll see her this fall, a redhead in camo
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Writers, in general, enjoy the solitude that their profession allows, or more precisely, requires. I consider myself a member of that generalized group, along with a more exclusive club of writers who also tolerate an occasional…
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There it was
One abandoned high heel shoe on the sidewalk
Could have been
Some kind of robbery
Though
Maybe it was just
The beginning of the
Walk of shame
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"Did you see any action?" I ask, hoping for a story. He points to a scar ripping through the chevron on his left arm but says nothing.
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Last week I heard that there is a new horror movie out about Abe Lincoln, with the plot of the film involving the tallest of presidents hunting down vampire bats with his axe while suspending habeas corpus, writing lame speeches about the freedom of man, restoring the…
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I saw blood. The walls of the bar were completely covered in red shag carpeting. Had I been thrown back in time to the Seventies? It felt as if I had entered Hell itself. No, this was not Hell. This was the Aryan-Brotherhood's version of the movie Shaft. I…
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Tucker walked the long and lonely stretch of highway in front of him. The loneliness didn't matter; he had his own way of handling that feeling. The walking, however, was wearing away at his mind. How…
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He'd always considered it his bus.
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After going to the garage and moving at least 4000 boxes of junk we found the coat rack. We wrestled it up the stairs to my room. I wasn't much help, but Dad was cool about it. I think he was just happy I liked the suit.
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The world can still be viewed as a honey drop of sparkling rain, but not all washed up tears can be revealed as such. The stories swirling inside are constantly shifting their own gears, searching for the lost highway, and sometimes…
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and still every time I walked up there - so it can't be the cycling - I was nervous I would do it wrong
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