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We walk with our heads down, maybe 15 of us, moving under a sun that has grown to encompass everything. Everything is in hues of orange and red like a bloody eyeball on fire.
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12801310
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I'll see her this fall, a redhead in camo
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128000
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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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128010
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When I was a boy and just out of seminary school, I went to a Doors concert and heard Jim Morrison sing his song ‘Soft Parade’ – it changed my life.
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128000
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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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128030
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I turn the corner and come face to face with Ed, who's stark naked at the kitchen sink. He chugs a glass of hot tap water from a measuring cup and belches loudly. “Good morning,” he says, as he pisses in the sink. “I drink 6 cups of hot tap…
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1280157
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...he had that same grin, better than a racy French picture.
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128052
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lift my love and be lifted
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128041
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This time is different. The dream doesn’t continue with endless walking.
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1280147
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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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128000
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He'd always considered it his bus.
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128042
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Paul and Mary Jo lived in an apartment at the top of a long, dark flight of stairs that were so high, I remember as if it were yesterday thinking, the night she pushed him down the stairs, he would surely be dead by the time he hit the landing at the…
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128011
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Performed October 21-22, Gallery 263, Cambridge, Mass. Kathy-Ann Hart, the Hostess; Ryan Wenke, Ubu; Tyler Catanella, Alfred Jarry; the author--technician.
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128030
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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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127911
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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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127920
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He sat behind her in Honors English, each day studying everything about her.......
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127922
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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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127965
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127940
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"At a bare minimum it deserves to be a major cult hit."
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127922
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The son stood on the porch with his grip packed. "I'm off to mine me a fortune a gold, Daddy." "Boy, there's a fortune in gold right here," said the father, indicating the ripe wheat, glowing in early morning sun. The kid slumped. "Pop, you turn over a rock there,…
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127921
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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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127953
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In the neon light and barroom shadows,
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127977
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She rubs her head into mine...
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127922
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The boy in the elevator with round glasses, /
who carried a newly-purchased broom, /
was tall and burdened with clothes
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127910
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Something is clearly wrong with them and we're supposed to socialize them.
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127933
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Once I get through this I'm going to start: daily yoga stretches; walking the dog all the way to the waterfall every morning; tossing out, unread, Saturday's ads so I don't think about going into Walmart to buy Stack-A-Shelves (assembly required). Hey, even…
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127900
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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.
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1279107
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127911
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127996
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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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