most famously, a small/ writhing dog. A thousand casts were made/ before they stopped

If you have writer’s block, it may be because your childhood wasn’t unhappy enough, but there’s nothing you can do about that now, is there?

I got caught writing poems at the paint factory several times before they fired me I got caught in the middle of one of my best lines but can’t remember what I meant to say anymore, but I know, just know it was something real good,

The city was spread before me in a pattern of dancing lights, alternately hidden and revealed by the blowing snow. At this distance, it was almost beautiful. Of course, the beauty was an illusion, obvious only at a distance. If I stood here until dawn, I’

I’ll give you a pair of grey cement pumps then into the river, your body I’ll dump.

I am not thelargest animalin the forest because theforest itselfis an animal but I am theonly thing the shape of me ********************************************** Faerie She was tiny and bright andwhen I touched her…

....sucking my blood kind of draws the line.

Where the Story LiesEverybody wants to knowwhere the story lies. Does itlie in childhood? Does it liein old age? Does it lie in anangry outburst or a stingingrebuke? Does it lie in a momentof compassion or in the recognitionof calloused selfishness? Bruisedlove or…

We spent that entire winter with shaky hands and shrunken egos.

My dad was in a barber training school where they cut off the tip of a bum's ear and taped it back on with scotch tape

Women can often be found Sizing up each others’ tits

While laying in his hospital bed recovering from a minor heart attack, Professor Martin Hellman reads details of an ancient book he has been given for translation--Biblos Melas, or, the "Black Book." Excerpted from the forthcoming novel "Minion Web."

You will know the country for fences, for feces, for cows, or, You will know the country for the smell of hay and manure blowing over the hills to you.

Forget the salt erasure of Carthage,/ all the Meso-American artifacts/ smelted to float the Armada

A strange man tapped my door and held up the shoes for me to see. “It is the Dork Shoe,” he said. I looked past him at his dusty station wagon filled with boxes. “I have your size right here.” I observed the halo of his gray hair as he…