Most read stories

Regarding Bill Yarrow’s Assertion that Herrick Was a Voyeur (Poor Julia: Violated, but Immortal)

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the observation, at the end, more/ important than the being there—

When a Bowl Hits a Tree

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You would think when a bowl hits a tree the sound would be fierce, a loud clatter as stoneware explodes on birch bark dispersing shards in daffodils and grape muscari, but the noise is gentle, a thudding clink like empty bourbon bottles rattling hollow in…

this time it really may, quite possibly, be the end of all of this ambivilence

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her heart just nodded knowingly ....yes, dear

Art & Me

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A human cop and a cyborg detective team up to solve a case. A sci-fi-pulp-noir-detective story.

Arcana Magi Memorial - c.4

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Azure walked through the fog as though she were walking to class. Her hands swayed through the mist and felt the thickness of the cloud through her fingers

Love and Destruction In A '67 El Dorado

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He had her pinned to the back seat, expressing his love. Do you love me? she whispered in his ear. Do you, do you, Jimmy Dale, do you love me? His only response…

a day uptown/a night on the bowery

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in her monestary mission, with her rosary and candles, time holds me here my feet got the travelin' blues but my hands tie old women's bones to my hair

The Spider and the Corpse, Or, The Corpse and the Spider

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The corpse lay silently in his open casket. Dressed in the finest silken suit. Italian. Rubber skin pulled over his bones. Arms folded in eternal prayer.

Actor-Activist

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A dark-haired, handsome man adjusted the headset he was wearing, leaned toward a microphone, and eyed his host, a curly-haired man with a toothy grin, who sat up straight as he received a cue from his producer.

one dozen haiku

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strumming on the pipe/blowing on the lute's body/drumming on the horn.

What To Believe

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Being simple like this, knowing a thing is done by doing.

Bedbugs

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I'm in awe of her frankness, how she takes my breath away, how I wish to rush off with her to a splendid hideaway where only the two of us touch the grape-stained mountains and the cerulean sea, wild blades of grass quivering with the breeze. Sometimes th

Peripheral Anthropomorphism and the Fall of Troy

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For Hector it was animals. Rats, dogs, fish, and quite often horses – sometimes even lions. But for Achilles, it was always dead bodies.

Bitterness: Poem

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Standing hard at the windowCold clouds move, slowBlue horizon in the distance—It's just a slice of blue.All this beautyI miss it in the bitterness.I'm consumed by the missingThe emptinessThe unfairnessAlways some unfairness cropping upand capturing joy.Glancing high…

CONFUSION

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She asks if I would like to join them.

Don't Wash, Don't Tell

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Butch the Labradoodle sets some necessary boundaries.

Found Poem

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The waters rose / on the earth

Bad Attitude

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Start with a long look down the alley, a small hoodied figure turning in.

Mr. Smashface eats fast food at Supermarket # 9

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“Now God,” Mr. Smashface calls me out by name.

Notel Nobel

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That was before Cohen died. Castro died. Castro Died should be a title by Samuel Beckett. Once I nearly went out to buy a bass clarinet just for the purpose of playing along with Leonard Cohen.

Obituary

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Patrick Savage, who has died aged 29, was a poker player fast on his way to becoming a cult figure in the music scene.

Bogdan

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He was a tenth grade / messiah, famous for acts of attrition.

My Relationship With Reading

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What if I said; I never liked actually reading?

Time

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Tell Bono I want my seventy bucks back.

The Invisible Corpse Candle

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Her eyes stared wide with panic, her teeth chattered intermittently with impressive intensity, and with her ineffectual stabs at the air she completed the portrait of distracted mania.

Shadow Man

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Words are not like bricks. The neighborhood flowers from within the rituals that enframe the drinking of a macchiato in a café. Now it hovers over the page.

a night on the f'naut

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with images overflowing with delicate thought scenes with nightmarish wet dreams

fc1 (bee boo guy/ valio hansolo)

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poon fred / loop ilo/ bussy yubb tree

How I Spent My Summer Vacation... When I Wasn't Drinking

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This is what my summer has come to: me, out of a job, aimlessly driving around the city looking for places to write, places to read, places to occupy my time.

Cast Off Thy Suffering

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Somewhere along tomorrow, I will forget I have the right to do this.