Most recent stories

Kairos Election

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The sour smell / of unloved things/ haunts our days


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When exactly does cheese go bad? it simply does not, I say.

Holding My Husband

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We are only two small people doing our best.

Empty Pocket

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Hell We Were American

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We danced the pee dance after too much Seven Up and tasted odd Jello dishes.

Reckoning (the beginning)

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I first laid eyes on him at the funeral parlor. The man Homer Price told me was called Monkey Dick.

A dress

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My poetry is bare, showing its pink and purplish imperfections and its injuries. I buy it a dress to hide its bruises, to ornate it a little, to make it smile. On its rather ugly and mishaped body, the dress looks comical, ridiculous, clumsy, like a bird with a broken wing.…

Artemisia at Her Canvas

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a slow and beautiful silence

there was a shameful attempt to steal fire and now the vultures always come for my livers and my God I Am sorry

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The Divine and merciful Understanding Calls out to me But let me not speak its name. You are an unworthy hearer And I am a secret-keeper, cunning With keen thoughts and prayers of swift Justice Single is our thought and act And when we pray we know not what it…

Internet Revolutionary

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The sentences didn’t tell accessible yarns, they imparted secret knowledge. They were restless on the surface of things, drawn to inner workings and systems and the inner workings of systems..

Gone To The Dogs

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The dog stands in the front yard, his white fur turning red and yellow in the August sun. He moved into the house last month. In our one conversation he'd explained he was the first member of his family to own a home. It is a nice house with a circular driveway. The grass…

Slydexia for the Unimpaired in Eight Acts

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You tell its approach soon as veal resists both knife and fork, quick neutrinos land in internet ruby climes.

Notes to the Dead

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The kind of poem poets write and read. I mean, hey I was feelin’ it HARD at 3:24 am, and this is what spilled out.

The Fixer

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When someone asks me what I do, I tell them that I am a fixer. I fix things. There is nothing that cannot be fixed. Will it ever be as good as new? That is subjective, but I will fix it for you.

The Seagulls at the parking lot

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Turningturning the pale grey spotShe sits in her carin the parking lotwith the radio onleaning back picking a thin piece of skin from her fingerTurningturningthe seagulls move aroundand aroundabove the asphaltas though it was the wavewith its…

You Better Quit Your Runnin' Around

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I remember it was late at night I was with Johnny Appleseed’s younger brother Bruce Bruce Appleseed He was the lead singer for the band Fake Moustache Turns out he was just a bum Set on vibrate Who’d bought a 10-gallon hat once But h

4 Haiku

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we wanted summer: Distillers at Myhalyk's all those cancelled shows

The Green Light

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"It just makes sense to be nice to everything that lives."--Aurora AksnesLike Aurora, my favorite color is moss green. Anything else is a lie told to throw you off the scent. You will abandon her. Just like you will abandon me. Green. We were walking…

Dr. Gallop

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I fired my doctor and set out for home. He was a lousy doctor. My mother had fired him, too.

Father's Day

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I nudged my old man's boot from the coffee table and picked up beer cans. The boots were chewed-up and he still wore the shirt with his name, but he'd retired. There were little burn holes in it from welding and smoking. I emptied the mound of Lucky Strikes. He talked in…

Getting over the man in the moon

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First have a good window seat

The Cuervo Gold and Clorox Blues

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I try to keep myself from weeping. We are all actors in a bad dream, that doesn’t go away in the morning

Introducing Molloy Foppiano

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Before Andromeda can swallow us expand our stars...

'We're generically stamped. Aren't you generically stamped?'

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A Journal of the Plague Year, Day 193

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More thoughts on denial...

The Donkey

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Since dawn doesn't understand my words, I will give them to the donkey, finely cut for him, let them ferment some time and add a few sprigs of lucerne. The donkey grazes in the meadow down the road and always welcomes me with a grin that displays his mauve gums and his…

A Season of Grieving . . .

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new collection . . .

vers libre inexplicable, mock sonnet, half villanelle

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this vaudeville world has turned all into stage— / the message appears on each screen and page: / every domain and institution—staged.

Life in Outer Space

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Conveniently, the vistor had arrived when she was between tasks. It was still difficult for her to believe that it had occurred but she had the tangible proof there in front of her, within reach.

One old and one new

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served as it is/ among these friends. The frayed filaments/ tickle my chin and irritate my nostrils,