We have been down here before

My guy was Croatian. I sought an Italian.

Sometimes we hurt ourselves, we scratch ourselves, we bleed — for a simple joy... All I wanted to do was to find the poplar again — the tree of my young arms, of my budding breasts. My fingers used to circle around its bold and vigorous waist, but in the…

They called him Hank. We piled in a car and drove up from Irvine to his little bungalow apartment on DeLongpre near Hollywood Blvd. for a collating party for this Mag he started with Neely called “Laugh Literary and Man the Humping Guns.” No shit, that wa

His small hands grew unimaginable vitality as he pushed and heaved against the strength of the ocean and it's depths and it's ruthlessness.

She hears me, acknowledges me. She knows I’m bound each day, unable to make my voice heard. “It’s regrettable,” she mumbles...

Once, To a crash slumber on my bed, so late, I learned my pillow could communicate. As I lay my head of lead at the head of the bed, My talking pillow said, "Let me be the foundations for the constructions of your dreams...

...the room was filled with a brightness and a breeze, making you think you were up in the clouds.

“Elaine, what's that bee doing?”, asked Jonathan as he slid his reading glasses down and turned his attention from the morning paper to a bee that had landed on the his Nesbitt's Lime soda bottle. The bottle sat on the small, hand-made table in their back…

It could be there is a little me, somewhere, truth be known. One time in Laguna Beach I slept with a girl I met at this café, the Jolly Roger, I think, when we went back to my apartment and had unprotected sex. She said she was on the pill, but you neve

"Come into my face." said Duras famously as she neared death. This is very beautiful. If one takes Duras to speak of something akin to the 'face' as given us by Levinas, and we may display this face here as something like an Husserlian universal…

Light seen as sunlight through a Japanese shade Red through many of their mouths, and often their hair but also spots of a duller red on the back of this gentleman's coat and the back of his head The woman stares at him without smiling from thre

And what is it I’m supposed to do With all this unsolicited advice?

Above the chasm of life burn two fires at either side of the framed painting that stands on the pink and red plain. And inside the painting itself an orange rain falls, accumulating in a sea of red. Rocks can’t stand their small shadows anymore

She's a woman who travels often. Maybe for work. Maybe for mischief. She's a "free spirit" trapped by her desire for love. But she numbs it with the warmth of a new man's touch. She leaves herself reminders that often fail her or remain inconsistent. She wants to…