Most recent stories

And Then The Hunger Had More Power Than Even The Sorrow

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Delilah couldn't articulate why she was sometimes uncomfortable watching her husband interact with his mother. (573 words)

The Lonely Crowd

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By Derangement of All Our Senses

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We will collapse in a storm of images


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I have a big Jesus statue in my kitchen. My wife brought it home from the hospital where she works to paint him and fix him up. But right after he came she got leukemia. My son got schizophrenia. She only managed to fix one of the broken fingers. Now he just stands…

The Magician

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Today I saw a magician die. Maybe it was just my luck to be in the wrong place again, that’s how I got this crooked scar on my face--a jealous lover who thought I was cheating on him.

Summer Party Advice, From Father to Son

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I got right up in his face. “Madras shorts with those candy-ass Brooks Brothers shirts? If you wear stripes with plaids, you’ll look like a TV test pattern.”


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I realize I am standing with my hands on my naked hips, my panties and shorts are clumped around my left ankle.


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we swim in failure

Bacon's Blood (40)

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Byrd bursts in on Bacon burial plans.

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 25

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It was 6 a.m. when the phone next to the bed awakened Francesco.

Strange Sign At the Outskirts to Paradise

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In an area of high winds and strong convictions, I have lived among the ever-changing crowd that is always the same. I must have died overnight, and now my wings are flapping in my own face. I used to be an owl, a night owl, to be sure

Three-toed Sloth Love

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Couldn’t we just do a quick ie

Lost at Sea

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Now can see—the coldest fish invigorated by the warmth of his submerged soul. Use those words sparingly.


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Sometimes a full-breasted pink, gold, auburn sunset is crouching right behind the thick summer mist. If the fog splits open, there is no higher, closer view of the ocean from anywhere in your city—the one you've lived in for twenty years, the city you are leaving…

Knife Knavery with Wordswords

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Everyone accepts the risk borne by another: she's standing there, he's tossing the blades, he's not supposed to slice her, but we stare only as each blade strikes very close . . .

For You

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Why should you go through that for me?

Jimmy and the Ark

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Yes, he'll be quiet. Very quiet. He rocks himself, the ark, suddenly imagining water underneath him, over head, all around. Water, water, water—

The Whore

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The man and the whore lay in bed together. It was a cold night and they were warmed by the heat beneath the…

Circus Metamorphosis

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Such pretty dogma, a voice in sleepstutters a wakefulness, clings to the Gothiclike a warrior clings to war.You wear the gown of impossibility.Before unfinished works of suns,perpetual irises, wonderful, mad,armed with such superlativesI heap praise upon your pineal…

The Man Who Smelled Funny

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There once was a man who smelled funny. He didn’t smell bad, he smelled funny.


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If you want to know who I am, read these Faerie cards upside down.

The Two Lermontovs

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I am in a strip club thinking about / Lermontov

The Hit Man Clips His Lawn

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Black and Decker electrical jobbers in wind and rain

Sacred Throne, Book 1, Chapter 21

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"Ah, Mother Christ Mary and angled Semiramis. I'm leaking. My vital humours are intermingling with the earth. It'll know..." Frank said, starting to sob. "The Black Monstrance will know." "Frank, you've got to go to the hospital, I think. You look bad.

The Lonely Gaze of Men in Nightclubs

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Quarts of philosophy may be transacted by semantic obstetrics.

You Are Now Leaving Czech Soil

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He leans forward across the cafe table, holding both of her hands, and tries to kiss her on the lips, but she pulls back, making him beg for it. Then she kisses the top of his downturned head. Beg for it he will, and she knows it. Now he


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i just seem to be stuck is all

TPP or...

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This was looking down from what we know as The Grassy Knoll.

Quinine Tablets

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a little bitter for the better

Deleted scene from a 1948 B&W film starring Maureen O'Hara, some freckle-faced kid and Pat O'Brien in a tattered cap

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Writers unite! Y'have nothing to lose but your chains. Unleash your inner Balzac and suppress your meta predilections.