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When I was 14 I accidentally heard a woman saying behind my back
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“Namaste,” I say as I hand the guy his ticket. “The divinity within me salutes the divinity within you. Have a nice freaking day.”
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dove from the trenches, double-check
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Late last night down at Jim's Saloon
Everyone expected that the last balloon
Would go Boom! The one they all saw coming
And Lady Liberty would send the bad guys running
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I came out of the Quick Stop and found her in the back seat of my ten-year-old Camry. I don’t know who she is, or why she chose my car. I do know she’s having a baby any minute now.
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Hilda Raz lost a daughter. Her son gained a persona, backed by biological components. I was impressed by his male-pattern baldness. A biological genius. And yet, I was reduced and in the elevator mentioned crying about it.
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117632
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Palinode: A poem written to retract something said in a prior poem.
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He will later claim he knows nothing of the girl’s disappearance and that I was the last one seen with her, which will unfortunately be true but not the real story…
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Understanding those who don't understand us
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high school football players who'd been hit wrong and instantly become quadriplegics
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Benjamin did everything by the clock. He ate when the little hand pointed to five and the big hand pointed to six. He danced when the little hand pointed to three and the big hand pointed to seven. He slept when they both hit twelve.To be more precise, he did everything…
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Loss and awakening are irrevocable. Love and grief are one.
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Sometimes your Monday morning answer to the inevitable questions don't have to be so mundane and repetitive. And sometimes they do. No one gives a shit anyway.
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117543
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A novel is an idea that has
Survived many severe beatings
While a poem is a homely thing that was
Never even asked to the dance
Art Speak, however, is the art of
Systematically overstating and
Re-inventing the Obvious to the point of
Distr
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Adam, now Eve-less, stood before his most exquisite Bonsai, wallowing in the miseries of youth.Seth Gall has had work published in China, Canada, and the U.S. His work has appeared in Word Riot, SmokeLong Quarterly, and Nanoism. He is S.H. Gall in decomP…
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The darkness isn’t evil but invisible/
in the otherwise excellent light of day
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He had to
get over
the short bridge
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The old hate the young. Robe exposed monks do not Hate mosquitoes. It is one. It is one hand. It is on. Mountains don't hate sky. The rich hate the poor. The poor hate the rich. The parade of scholars hate the …
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When you finally arrive,
when you are bounced from Bingo
for calling out too many false Bingos,
may the mothers be there
to lift the children
off your soul.
May you see the fiery red word Psychic
above the doorway
underneath the green
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how many lighted days remain
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As a boy Edward had stayed in the confessional several times in a row. The priest was drunk and couldn't tell it was the same kid over and over. The tiny door slid open…”Scobbity bobbity…tell me your sins…” Edward confessed what he thought were sins, then said…
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My memory is like tracks in the snow. My memory is cookie dough. My memory is dirty tube socks.
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Something’s not right. Okie, the elder cat, seems–distrait. Taciturn. Phlegmatic. And those are just leftover vocab words from my son’s senior English class.
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The memory fades so quickly, It makes me wonder if it ever really happened? Then I have to create something new from scratch to fill the space Yeah, there are patterns, and sudden movements that pass for recollections, but couldn't they as…
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Our friend, M. Dieu-Juste partnered in a used car business with a Vietnamese mechanic, Mr. Tran. Cars however, were not their only venture.
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When I returned to Brooklyn, I discovered some explicit nude paintings of a former student of Francesco's from the Art Students League.
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