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Ugly Histories

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Before the reign of light skinned beauty, before the war of pale and darkEast of the Nigerian Delta & resting low amongst the viscous swampland A baby born in ochre dust, plum-pudding black, eyes full of coal fireUnbound by western influence and their disorders of…

Passing by Pallanteum

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Passing by PallanteumOr ‘Dido's Song' Form: Double Sestina, iambic pentameter, rhymed Who knows of hell, knows less of paradise? I've known them both, when vanquished in your eyes, When draws the kelp where lost men had their graves Below…


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My table offers up the gutted calf/ with carrots and potatoes yanked / alive and whole


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far from this time

Arkansas Abduction

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The aliens did not offer a solution to the chaos, they only offered an escape, an exit to entropy. The hot tongue of the sun licked his back. The cicadas were crying for him. The birds were wisely holding their song.

Brú na Bóinne—July Afternoon

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St. Brigid’s Crosses go for €7 a shot. Inside the passage grave the walls are tight.

Anyone Can Do What They Can Do

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Cut my karmic rip-cord. Shower me in angel dust.Feed me vodka and vegetable juice.Let me embrace the gray. OK,time for a ballad you say.HMMM.....This isn't love at first sightnor blindness at the twinkling of any eye.This isn't the timefor the blowing of any…

excerpt from 'Ghosts on Kirwan's Lane'

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I was having a pint in what used to be The Castle, having just had lunch in what used to be the Augustine Cafe. I then walked out to Salthill, past what used to be Mulligans, Apostasy, Le Graal, Taylors, The Oasis and CJ’s nightclub.

Blue Moon

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I knew this would happen. I just didn't know when or how, or with whom, I suppose it was inevitable, This crashing of souls, This recognition Of possibility to create. If we were younger, We would make a baby, The ultimate act of faith. Now it has…

The Papery

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Attempted Innocence

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When they first met at the bar, right away he was sweet on her. He drove an old oil-burning Buick or Olds, going down the road like a smudge pot. He never kept food in his car, where it would get hot and spoiled. He only picked nice fresh

Old Time Religion

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Our Story in Ten Photographs

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1. The ghost that photographs my wife and me has a peculiar sense of lighting. In this one, we are sitting at the kitchen table of our old apartment. The table is made of glass. There is nothing on the table except our elbows. She has lowered her head between her…

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 28

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On Monday, Michiko returned from Cleveland in a foul mood. She called Frank’s studio at three in the afternoon.

Cigarettes and Celery

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By then she’d passed a dancer’s age and talk had taken the place of movement.


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No one saw him arrive at the half-moon garden just south of Delancey, no one saw him hang his cage from one of the drainage pipes, but by the time the rest of us got there, the bamboo frame was already covered with silky, golden cloth that reflected the e


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Sundays I drive her to the cemetery to visit her husband of fifty years. I've had her for two, and when I tell her I love her as much as he did, she laughs. I have to hold her elbow and help her over the bumpy grass. Today it's raining and we brought just one umbrella, so…


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Before the paint spikes Coney Island to the wind, I walk home through the strum of a shield, colder than the one he left behind. For the hour I sprawl along the sidewalk in her laugh, crater's shadows for Wonder Wheel, he is midnight sun in The Last Waltz. Where the glow…


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She sat down on my desk and pulled from her pocketbook a pack of Marlboro Lights, turned over my THANKS FOR NOT SMOKING sign and lit up. She dared me with her soft green eyes as she blew an arrow of smoke from her first deep drag past my head towards the

Why Men Compete

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It starts on the Fallopian Speedway

Beyond the Brown Paper Bag: Baggers & The Bagged Items

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Cork—July Morning

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Salmon and hake stare wall-eyed from an icy bed. The Turkish coffee seller makes thick lattes for €2.00

Below the Surface of Things

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the heartbeat, the pulse of the darkened earth

I Count the Birds

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For most the day I watch parakeetsin the tree outside the window,fluttering in the branches like green leaves constantly rearranging themselves.You, your body, lie there, now seven daysno water or food a family holding vigil, you slippingaway. Later that night we will…


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And I admire// the orchestrations of ants and honeybees/ and the persistence and adaptations/ of the cockroach.

Trunk Full of Old Paintings

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The world can be viewed as a drop Of rain, but not all the tears can Be revealed. The stories swirling inside are constantly Shifting gears, searching for the lost highway, and Sometimes finding it. There is plenty of love Going on, and a…

Karmic Rip Cord

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For the kid in me who fell head over heels all the way down the stars, I wonder where you are now. Slack is harder to cut than you might think, I have learned. And assigning the middle finger its true purpose keeps me pretty bus

Angel Dust

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