At least the cephalopods on their planet manage to comport themselves with some dignity, as well as demonstrating some actual intellectual acumen.

You tell its approach soon as veal resists both knife and fork, quick neutrinos land in internet ruby climes.

I discovered Ripple (by that fine winemaker Gallo) in a dusty “specials” bin at the back of a liquor store near skid row, off Maxwell Street, downtown Chicago. You may remember me bringing these bottles home with their screw-off caps. We drank tons

“What the hell was that? Is that your take on The Deer Hunter?”

They say his irrational outbursts and insane rantsare the results of untreated syphilis. Well, thatmakes perfect sense to me. I've always thoughtof him as a tessellated spirochete, a narcissistic chancre,festering pustule of a blistered imposthume. And whywouldn't a…

Just after Al snapped the shutter the fucking monkey tried to tear his face off.

tentacles of stringy rains opens up the stage antics for this common February day to the fidgety audience at hand but it appears that they just won't be able to grab on, not this time. The familiar grumpy wind with…

Then Vladimir asked Ellen if she wanted to try out the dungeon. And she looked at me, and smiled. “Well, yes.” “What?” I said. “No, Ellen, no! Do not let him lock you in here, whatever you do.” “Do not worry. Do not worry. I am Janovsky, no? I hav

In the cafeteria we have the cheese fries. Sara's favorite. She eats with two fingers, pinching like a crane. Cheese drips and she licks the fingers. She licks the plate. She goes for it. Big Lulu, the cook, calls from the back. “That's what I like to…

I like to collect twilights. I fold them carefully and put them in my wallet. They fit neatly between the dollar bills that have a weird tendency to curl. This bugs me. I don't know why they do that. Something to do with the design of the wallet. But the twilights fit…

I was bleeding from the soul It took its toll I fell all the way down in a hole I saw some burning coal I didn’t know where the hell I was Or what went wrong As I sang some unholy song Where I did not belong There was a frozen carcas

Once a week the kids at school got ice cream and popsicles. You didn’t, you never had ice cream money.

Who will plume the chicken? Who tend the little flower of the soft person? Who steal the pea out from under the bank while you’re holding it up?

What they used to do is hide in the cupboard, and would suddenly acquire the philosophy of “whatever happens happens,” so that they would finally find themselves grabbing each other's body parts in wanton excess until they both explode under the weight of their…

Time is the / gravy of the bloody roast beef of / emptiness.