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I sold my ego to pay a parking ticket. And then I wrote 77 words about mental health.
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looked briefly – glanced
shouted loudly – yelled
fell down – fell
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After it is over, I go out into the world, to the café. The flower sellers are setting up their booth outside the glass doors. Classical guitar over the speakers. A soft rain falling. Heads bowed, reading the news. Coffee, croissants, cappuccino. This g
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Other pathways are more satisfactory. They are more closely attuned to music of the other world. Even so, the heat eventually burns them up.
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They wait for me every morningthese two furry four legged catswhen they hear my car,their eyes open wide and they nuzzle each otherin anticipationof the food I bring them
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But if He makes you happy, stands/
as bulwark against the vast, indifferent/
and deadly universe, then cling to Him
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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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When I was eighteenI worked at a convenient storeAnd the owner was from PakistanAnd he dressed well and Smelled of cologneAnd owned two storesAnd was always going back and forthBetween the two of themHe had to make sure we were doingOur jobsAnd whenever some kid…
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Ben shook his head in disbelief: Was this some theatrical soothsayer trick of Ida’s?
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When were you flash frozen?
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I descend to my grave / where I will unbend / until the Coming of Christ
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It was ridiculous. We were only in 3rd grade. How can anyone know at that age, only eight, that Judy F. was the girl he was meant to be with for the rest of their lives?
But that was how Stephen O. behaved. As if they both already knew this, and they
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This was how he circumnavigated people, bartering like a viking setting prices on the edge of an ax-blade.
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With the sudden thrust//
of April green, we can forget/
our drought continues.
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114344
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Of red snappers, flaccid on porcelain slabs...
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Marie Poupon-Kennedy wasn’t strangled by one set of hands; there were thirty sets around that long, pale neck.
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Against//
the mysteries and the dark/
it illuminates and shapes
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Hours later, when I was on the phone trying to explain in broken Greek that I didn't have the money to pay damages, I started to retrace my steps from that souvenir shop I reduced to dust.
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Then he said something that really made sense, said he kept a blank check in his back pocket...
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The woman was dancing, holding her bottle in the air as she slowly turned around, blocking the way to the exit. “I asked Miss Pansy Blossom if she would wing a reel,” she sang.
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The gulls/
have somehow mastered the art//
of avoiding the nooses of six-pack/
plastic rings
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114221
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Breaking News: Noted local writer and very minor celebrity Paul Steven Stone joined a growing list of talentless wannabes to bare skin and a hint of nipple in a shameless attempt to draw attention to his current blog posting. When asked how far he would g
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“Good to see you, old man,” Greg said. He was like that, an investment banker, a latter-day Tom Buchanan without the polo ponies, self-consciously fusty.
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I was setting up a mattress and a lamp in the balcony of my house because a boy, G., told me he was coming to fuck me.
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My wife said she’d only be gone 10 minutes. 10 minutes. She left me with the 2 boxes we couldn’t fit into the car, and went home to unload the 5 others. She’d be back in 10 minutes.
I got a call after half an hour, she was on her way back to get me. I
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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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I. The sun's corona. Empty boxes near the firehouse. Red birth. A bird's lost wing. II. The bitterness of littleness. Apples in a pile.Early love.A spider, swinging. III. A father's harshness.Twelve bills unpaid. Leaves in a crevice. A dream…
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