Most recent stories

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 35

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I visited his loft last week. There were many exciting new pictures. Francesco was your main money earner before, now he will be again.

assass in in the the ater

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Cockroaches From Heaven

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Cockroaches may be falling through the holes in the floorboards of heaven, but we will not be disturbed. We are agents, free and clear, even if a little bit mean. I want to quit worrying about money, but the angels upstairs won’t let me. The

to be butchered/incoherent

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Even now you will misfire but take my clothes off anyway. Exposed to the sun again, under your hands, and later in the eye of a dust storm, in the shadow of the slaughterhouse, the shadow of her, of angry pigs with views glowing by gas-lighting.


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The Gate Before

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You were always goingto connect the dots. I was always goingto overfill a bucketwith poems. You wouldeventually drive off wavingyour hand like astar on a spring. I'dshoulder up another notebookfor the walk. Myhand would rather holda pencil. Yours wouldaccept a kiss…

at night, she comes

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My head was swimming with nicotine, the coldness of the first snow, and unfinished love thoughts.

That's His Boy

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“It’s a little job, a piss ant farm,” Ronnie said. “We’ll do it quick and get paid extra.”

Artesian Moon

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Minutes before his job interview, Jerethian Quith was anxious. The intense heat radiating from Artesia's twin suns had nothing to do with his discomfort. Within the green zexaglass of the Planetary Actors' Association, the temperature was cool. The tough questioning…


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When nothing's coming in All I have are fragments Cloudy memories Uncompleted projects Disappointments loom large and threaten to define me I am only as good as what I produce And now I feel empty So how do I shine How do I find the spark that…

Angel's Return

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I never looked at her face.

Arkansas Amnesia

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At Wal-Mart, Bryston noticed that he had forgotten his glasses. He wouldn't be able to see a bloody thing. He might even lose his way.

It Isn’t Personal. It’s Business

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because you pay/ for it to matter to me.

Honey Bee Men

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"...she's been seeming like she's been dreaming while awake lately..."

Sunny Side

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I was so used to the silence of late summer afternoons, when I could roll my hoop through the empty, sunlit piazzas without meeting another shadow, that at first I mistook the footsteps for the beat of a metronome spilling through an open window.

Why Albany, NY Sucks Shit Through a Straw

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Sometimes you're too bar behind to be properly “prepped” for it, sometimes you're too far past to notice, yup, you've missed your (cultural) train . . .

Rwanda Suite: Jemima

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...they'd told us about green mamba strikes, failure to take our anti malarials, the insanity of alcoholic Flemish nuns.

Self Recognition

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Not Creative

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a poem about things exploding/burning down/scattering for miles.

Rags to Riches to Rags: 12, Lenin’s Paintings

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This was the tale Einstein told us about these paintings by Lenin... I was going through Lenin's jewelry and his paintings with a team of experts. I got the idea that I was hired to verify his paintings, although I didn't know he painted. When

Thirteen Ways of Looking at Blackbeard

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Across the placid sea/The only moving ship/ Was eyed by Blackbeard

Four Songs

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Confessions of an Impersonal Spectator

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This is why I’ve decided to assign myself a position in life similar to that of Stuart Sutcliffe with the Beatles.

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 34

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—Now that’s a hell-of-a-painting, Frank, he said. Those colors are engaged in warfare. How the hell did you do that?

Long Story Short

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I grew up in Cleveland and when I returned I became friends with the manager of the Cleveland Indians.

Odorless Colorless Caustic Topical Triolet

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or Walmart, where punks play the blues In lieu of suicide, on toy guitars:

Ajloun Castle

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the wind mistook your arms for wings

Bacon's Blood (46)

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Hotel scene (bring your imagination)

The Handsome Whales

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are speaking clear enough through their open and bleeding wounds for you to understand. Waving their massive arms like living lighthouses bobbing in and out of the floundering waves, they are splashing out an urgent intelligent S.O.S.…

The Gallery of Wounds

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The blood is memorable/ as is the copper taste of that/ momentary certainty of lockjaw.