Most recent stories

Nope, (expanded)

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Can't cope. Got no hope. Got no dope. Call the Pope. Get the rope.

Death, looking over the poet's shoulder, whispers...

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Pre-mortem

White With Foam

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Starting Out

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Above the trees at the top of the lane, the Dublin Mountains stretch out in their low granite might, Neolithic graves scattered here and there, and the corries and ribbon lakes carved by the last Ice Age glazed by a winter covering of frost and ice.

candy crush

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1. we got off at the same stop. you approached me as i walked towards the stairs. i saw you looking at me, you said. i wasn't. i was looking at your magazine's cover. i don't remember what i said. i wanted to explore how to exist as myself however i wanted. i wanted to get…

A Record Setting Year

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it felt fucking awesome at that moment, in that way only little things can feel huge and life affirming

A Year of Brilliant Water

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He ended up at public TV, where you didn’t have to cover shootings in poor neighborhoods. You addressed big issues, even though nobody in New York or Washington gave a damn what a station in Boston thought.

Aftercare

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If you're in the mood for a long story.

Treatise on Some Blue Skies

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It's true, what they say, loveis the only thing thatmakes any sense. It isthe bravest thing anyof us will do. But it'simpossible, dangerous,stupid. I don't wantyou to trip into itsbeautiful trap withoutme. Like being swallowedby a fish, I'm told, yesactually I knowthere is…

Bacon's Blood (21)

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There's spaghetti, and then there's spaghetti.

Wild Strawberries of Mars

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might leave NYC or Earth

Nostalgias to Sicken, or Notes Recovered from a Crash Scene

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People have it backwards, as usual: we do not walk through ghosts, the ghosts shudder through us.

DeerDoctors by Sahbor Ratanus

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The doctor bargained with us enough but I kept saying “give it a thousand years and we'll think about it.” He seemed to mean well and be smart enough to not be feeding us snakes, but he wasn't a praying man and I couldn't see past that look he used to give my…

Excelsior - A Poem in 9 Parts (post 3 of 5)

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IV. From Hoover Dam The intent of passive presence wreathes an endless ring, Invisible, beyond all thoughts and change to sickness. This hour beats sibylline as vacancy, breathing Through mouths that do not taste their nothingness. I do not know where you are;…

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 2

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Independence Day was a Thursday. Frank had been invited to join some Yale Art School classmates in Vermont for a three-day bacchanalia.

early spring

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the late snow, though not welcomed...

Blonde Cabaret Dancer in Waxwork Museum Shocker

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Superfluous and petite, she closes her eyes, acts like they are open. She thinks she's Marlene Dietrich, contemplates Erotica involving Vincent Price riffing an electric accordian. She has no knowledge of perfection, rendering her perfect by default. She is…

Written Six Weeks Before

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March 16, 2006 My mail, e-mail, and phone calls go from the ridiculous to the sublime. Apologies for the cliché, but I can't resist its perfect applicability: In my mailbox today yet another catalogue of boob jobs in bikinis and an invitation to explore…

Where's Waldo?

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Over his usual ham sandwich and Pepsi for lunch Uncle Waldo used to often say, “Going out in the dead of night without a flashlight is dangerous” and I'd nod but I kept slipping out, sneaking down my secret path and take a dip in the rich neighbor's pool because…

The Painter, Vandalism, and Debts to the Universe

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Some people are simply parasites.

Arcana Magi Memorial Vol.5 - c.4

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Sora and Ciel stood before Dean Morden inside his office. It felt weird to the girls looking at him sitting behind Madam Mayweather’s desk

Little Tech Puppies In the Artisan Beer Hall

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Little tech puppies, well compensated for code/ that outsourced laborers will realize in supercheap,/ superchipped gewgaws, sip artisan beers

Betrayal

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Betrayal of course is the great human crime. As I found out when . . . .

Beneath The Ice Age

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Using Proven Scientific Methods to Get Published

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I have a ninety two percent rejection rate.

Bacon's Blood (20)

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Gobble and Blow make asses of themselves in court.

Pandermonium [Card #15: The Devil (v.4)]

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The TV's fucking BLARING in here — what, did they turn it up? They must've. It wasn't that loud in here before . . . was it? No. I would have noticed. Fuck's sake.

Song Without Wonder

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What I’ve got is priceless, but no one wants it. Hmmm. I wonder if I can give it away, or have to haul it to the dump? What I have is priceless. Priceless. What I have is priceless, but no one wants it.

Day Care

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"This is where the children play," the woman said cheerily. She gestured toward the flat bed of a pickup truck. The edge was surrounded by a makeshift wooden fence that looked like it had been made out of old orange crates.

D.H. Lawrence Ghazal

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How many shadows in your soul? Close your eyes, my love, let me / make you blind as the wings of a drenched, drowned bee.