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Garbage in, garbage out

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Sam tapped the stick against the small mountain of trash bags, a dull thud predictably followed by a dozen rats scurrying out of the mass. He's started to make a personal game of it — seeing how many he can kill with one whack; if he swings hard enough, and in…

Long Night, Hard Night

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It had been a long night, a hard night. The sky had been filled with blackened clouds, patters of wind snapping and whipping like a pirate's flag hung at full mast. Rain beat…

She Looked In the Mirror And Saw Something Different

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Even raw as she looked coming out of the jail, the woman left echoes.

Not Everything's Supposed to Make You Think

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you are on a missing boat in the middle Of a fogged out notion of some sort. A no nonsense paddle could be made out Of something as intangible as an Incoming wave. This could also be a Floating thought up map, man. In…

Second Collage

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B developed a thick emulsion that he paints onto the pieces of meat on which he prints photographs.

Hooker

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I returned to Minnesota from Montreal a week ago to realize that my sweetheart in Manhattan had hired a Ukrainian escort.

The Happiest Place

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I normally don't photograph well, but today – well, today's different.

Killing Joy

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In certain sense most fractured in each part, the whole Resolves itself more central, but I sense no calm In the cyclone's eye, the forest of the soul, Where plants this eidolon of poisoned charm. This is the secret of the hurricanes, reaping Out from…

the oracle withers, because it is so late

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I remember some of the tight-fitting garments you wore, your looks seeping through them. The light blonde hairs at your neck and at your middle. Were we really expected to keep our hands off each other? It is foolish to think so. I know what I was think

Our Enormous Fat Man

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Pity would have been appropriate. Yet, townsfolk whispered behind his back. Shouldn't he do something about it. So lazy. A gluttonous swine. Hadn't his mother kept him too long at tit, breastfeeding ‘til four? Look. Look at him now. A fat man. Our enormou

Seamstress

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The cab split the thread of oncoming traffic into water barrels and telephone poles.

Who Was This Guy

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Luke and Diane sat at a round white table looking around the room. There were clusters of people forming an archipelago of cordial exchange and small talk. All but a few were strangers, friends and family of his sister-in-law Mary, now a widow, though the word sounded…

In and Out

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Emma held her arm up to John’s eyes. He looked, nodded. “My burns are on the inside,” he told her. “I’ll never show you.”

Chresmographion

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Meeting the past an inevitable outcome (this inside a future fortune cookie). Shame pierces her like a sudden migraine.

Biscuits and Gravy

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Lips touch briefly at first

Self Portrait Without Colors

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I am the ritual/ banalities of days numbered,/ numberless, and numb.

Digging In The Darkness

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I dig with no light to guide the aim of my shovel but the stars peeking through the trees which are fuller now then when you went away.

Modes of Motion

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I saw an ocean drained and filled / at the flats of Saemangeum.

9 January

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Side morning lightthrough hydrangea crab, reachand shine off patio ice

Wednesday Night Aliens

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The old-timers at the Working Man’s Club wear a sheen of indifference every Wednesday night. Beneath the wafting, cresting mountains of burning cigarettes smoke, the train-track rattle of dominoes chipping at the dark wood tables in the corner, the consta

Lower-order Mammals

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they'd turned into humans overnight

The Boss

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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…

It is I, Hamlet, King of the Crabs

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Ronnie comes home carrying two sacks of groceries, one including a four-pack of Virgil's root beer. This is heavy stuff. It amazes me she is able to carry these items up our steep hill, nearly a mile in distance. I watch the news on our French cable station while she…

Cakewalk

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She could estimate herself around 30, though this was debatable since she had stopped counting years ago. She looked like a person who would be very pretty if she wore make-up, but she didn’t and therefore wasn’t.

4 Poems in an Avante-Garde Classical Style

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For Derek, Remembering Odd Jaunts in Overtoun I here remembered how we smoked and swam Under the cadenced pleasure of our under-days, Congealing cross-thoughts under oaken breeze, And watched the Turnered ocean of that swarm Last…

My Great Sensitivity

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I'm mucked now for sure. No one's going to discover my difficult poems in a locked away desk drawer somewhere after the dying fact. I remember how it feels to be knocked out by someone standing next to me in a simple white dress. This…

Mesmerized

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Those eyes – they held a lost blue sadness that enveloped her and stopped her mid-movement.

Short Terms Plans

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It's going to be expensive, but it's booked and I am going to enjoy every single minute of it.

Chu Berry, Tenor Wrapped in Swaddling

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They heard Chu’s voice, he was lying ten feet away, his skull opened up. “Find my change,” was all he was saying. “I left my change around, look for it."

The Fool on the Hill

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It is wonderful to talk to Mick Jagger in his hotel room. He is absolutely charming, and the women filling the room seem as natural as the sound of rain or the play of sunlight.