Most recent stories

A little bit of death as sunset falls on the Catalina Mountains

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A poem in prose form.

A Moot Point

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I was lying in bed with Cindy. She had just brought up the subject of marriage, again, when Victor began to vomit blood all over the bedroom carpet.

WRECKED

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There

Key Cutting

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City cars packed with eyes

With Robert Frost, at Wal-Mart

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He turns to close the door and his cat, an orange tabby named Demiurge, stakes out a wary watch on the threshold.

Swarming beaks

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A box with six birds in the back yard — Palm-sized Chickadees with black-capped heads.

Earthquake Weather

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The weather was uncharacteristically mild, warm, calm, unnatural for us.

Lines with Billie Holiday

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It is almost as if there isn’t a wedge of wood between us – I can feel him inches away from me. I can’t control the sigh or the tears that escape my body.

Three Stanzas after Reading Red Pine’s Poems of the Masters

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A scoop of moon sits on the wall

Consequently, I Rejoice

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The infinite terrifies.

Laughing, Crying

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It was Brad, for short; or so he would say. But really his name was Bradford, and he was a writer. He had almost always lived in New York. He was only half-white. His mother had run away with a black man in the sixties. Her father had told her to never come back to…

TBT

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Back then we used to dance slowly to Sam Cooke's “You Send Me” on your parquet floors, whispering about planting our vegetable garden, planning to seed the lawn with centipede grass, promising to count all the red cars that came down the street.

Leaky Guts

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One day, Dasha confessed to Igor that she had an incurable illness: Purple emptiness.

Pox Americana [Card #4: The Emperor (WORK-IN-PROGRESS — v.6)]

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"Gosh, I didn't know we qualified as a parade!" gawked one overly-well-dressed member of the cockamamie religion, apparently unable to count much past 12.

For FAther

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Post the absolutism, the fall.An upside down apple is a fragileImage and Nation together createN-trop(-e) chér my dear.Gallivanting about the frosted country-SIDE of lamb with mint sauce for afters.Ministrations to the dead.The body empty-D of all blud, dryin the cold…

What's Cool about Getting Old

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My skin tells a story of pain and labor. It’s better than a tattoo and cheaper.

H. Abstract

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“Dear, baby, what do you fear?” Or maybe it was, “Now here are the keys to the lock.”

Funeral

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After the funeral there was a luncheon in the church basement.

(Yet Another) Mask

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In frustration, he picked up a hammer and slammed it straight into the center of the mask.

Coconuts

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this is for your records, in case you're not redeemed and just being slowly eaten

When He Left it all to Me

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Where did you go?

Oed is Dead

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I COULD always sleep. Go "home" now and sleep. My body and my fetus—who complain of this torture—would appreciate sleep. I have something to do that is not sleep. I have something to do that is not sleep. I have to try to wake.

Stranger and the green gloves

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Book of Mountains

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Headsets screaming with suburban boredom

Looking Back

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I’ve been on the other side of the hill.

Doctor My Eyes: The Ultimate Cataract Surgery Mix Tape

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Q: What's the best song to sing to your doc before cataract surgery? A: I Only Have Eyes For You

Disposable

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He was a liability. I knew I had to ditch him.

Nest

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He spends his Sunday morning spraying WD-40 through the straw-like stream attachment at the expansive paper nest of beige and ivory striped wasps.

Whataboutery

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A scene.

Father Dunne's School for Wayward Boys #10

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I'm standing on a toilet, trapped behind a stall. Watching Father U mop up the blood.