Most recent stories

Symposium. Canadian Academy for Erotic Inquiry. Ontario, Canada. Friday, August 23, 8:32 A.M. The Toronto Sheraton. Lobby.

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In a Hammock

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Has it ever happened to you to fall asleep standing in a bus a hand on the bar? It has to me and not just once. Usually on an early morning after a late night when just about all elements have joined in to make my mind give in to sleep. Think of yourself in a bus on a day…


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Into the silence

Summer's smack

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clouds clot the horizon all day

Life After Les Miz

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There are many ways to cope effectively with your life after a Les Miserables run, and everyone is different, but here are some things that have helped others work through the process.

The Serendipitous Nature of Being

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To do the proper set up for the story, it was taking me some time, but each bit was important to the outcome, and while he likened me to Higgens on the old Magnum P.I. series, I just laughed at his slowly closing eyes and folded arm, caught in a half cur

Shadow of the Raven

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1. Sign of the Raven On the All Hallow's Eve that I rapped at his library door, Dr. Percival H. Wyndham was seated before the blazing hearth in his favorite leather armchair. The cluttered shelves lining the room's Maple-paneled walls brimmed with rare and obscure…

It's All in Your Head

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The terms of a broken heart, I guess I nevergot to read them. But they must besomething awful, something numbing, something no sane personwould ever agree to. You're already on the vergeof becoming nothing I can remember without a photograph beingshoved in my face. Like a…

Thirteenth Love Poem: After the Forest

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Today I do not want to change the world.

Skippy Goes Sailing

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I coughed a little. Some bloody fluid sloshed in the rubber tube coming from my chest. Outside my door some doctor was ranting. He was looking for the patient in the room across from mine. “She's in X-ray,” the nurse told him. “It's Friday,” he…

Just Yesterday

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midnight mooring

ice becomes a new marvel

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at all altitudes and at all latitudes / glaciers in furious melt: / both Greenland and Antarctica headed both / to be ice-free isles adrift / and with shorter coastlines amidst higher seas.

Buzzed By a Hummingbird

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Some tough young punk with dreadlocks Was walking down the sidewalk while texting And got frightened when he was buzzed By a hummingbird Saying “oh shit” He ducked, but then looked all around To make sure no one saw him Of course, I wa

Drainmen - Ch.3

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The gatekeeper, wrapped carefully in linen bandages around her torso, sat on the other side of the portcullis peeling an orange. It was always a difficult process for her because of her deformities. One hand had but two fingers, and these were thick and resembled a lobster…

The Witch in the Canyon

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There's a witch in Laurel Canyon.She made Wes a promise.Her bungalow smelled like Parliaments. Parliaments, garlic frying in olive oil. Parliaments, garlic frying in olive, and a freshly opened pack of Red Vines. Wes could have curled up into a ball and fallen asleep on her…

My Coyote

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I say her- it might be him-/ but from a distance I supply the details I prefer.

During My Daily Commute

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in moving cars i am small; in moving cars i am invisible.

Dateline: Dumbass

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Take a ride past Larry Crane’s 'Jackpot!' recording studio — right here! in the neighborhood! where Sleater-Kinney recorded 'One Beat' and Elliott Smith 'either/or' and Sarah Dougher 'The Walls Ablaze!' woo hoo! — and the kids are singing karaoke.

The Small Black Monkey

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Snow was whitening the prairies, the treetops, the roofs and the church. The village appeared dormant under its cold, sparkling covering. It was one of those winters when snow never seemed to melt away. There was a permanent look about it, a polar look.It was a school day.…


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the cracks in the concrete look like rivers or highways crossing from the air but only a few feet below me

From the Fotomat - Print 27

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To their left, and somewhat behind Nixon's elbow, Mao Tse Tung is peeling a tangerine...

Women on Motorcycles

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Do you want this, you ask, and hand me a blue silk shirt of hers with small yellow flowers. I'm afraid to say no, in case it makes you remember all over again.


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It’s so uncomfortable being an Angel in a sack

Fish Tales

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Billy's days were much like his yesterdays, with little hope the ones to come would be any different.

Twelfth Love Poem and Twelfth Song of Despair

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Let us not save each other for special occasions.

When again?

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will we begin again?We are a wheelFirst touchfirst kissfirst heatThey fade, disappear, come back again.Spokes in our wheel.When again shall we begin again?I hold you and feel myself spincaught in the whirlwind of thrill -the world, saturated with your scent.We hold each…

not Baudelaire's “Beauté”

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I charm as any stone-sculpted dream: / men grind themselves to dust on my breasts / in solitude poets spill and spew / enraptured of my adamant clay.


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When I got out I didn't buya new suit of clothes, stepinto a bar, or bargainfor an hour with a whore.I walked from McGee Streetover to Russell and wonderedif Bus 16 still went out of its wayto loop around the traffic knotat the shopping mall. It'd drop you thereif you had…


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I sometimes wish I had in my brain a switch next to the illuminated image of you. A toggle I could turn off that this haunting would be exorcised. Or perhaps I could undergo a session beneath that clever contraption zapping the bits of Joel Barish's gray matter in which…

Sunlight Falling Directly On Her Body

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The fine blond hairs lift slightly along the skin of your arms As you nod, listening to him. The veins On your arms standing up as well I was caught in an off moment because of your skin Because of the way moisture beads up on it The youthful fi