Most recent stories

Storefront Poet, Chapter the Last

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“It's a feather from the wings of the sacred Quetzal.”

Arcana Magi Memorial Vol.5 - c.5

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Getting answers felt like it was not enough. Madam Mayweather wanted more. She wanted to hurt someone.


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Catfish are biting on streetlights,

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 11

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Michiko never telephoned Frank from Washington or Chicago.

Honey & Darling

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I hear them whispering to each other over dinner.

STIFF NOW! The Early Embalming Craze Sweeping the Nation!

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Originally designed for para-morticians and pre-professional undertakers, the Protocol has now been certified and approved for over-the-counter purchase and is completely safe (check local regulations for sales to minors: not approved for veterinary use).


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The Poetry Kings

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They were an editor's worst nightmare; men who were determined to git published or die tryin’ with their hard-hitting, straight-outta-Bloomsbury slices-of-life.

The Flying Man Trapped in the Mobile Siege Tower

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There is always a new battle waiting and new innocents to die but the Flying Man's heart is never divided.


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a few numbers/ and a handful of their operations,

Another Soulless City

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By the fire in the hotel room she rubbed the soles of his feet with quartered lemons, balling her fist and running the knuckles from toes to heel and back again.

For An Age That Needs No Patience

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Beyond the tattered flags of nature.Beyond all my love examines.Beyond the courtyard of Man's fever.Stands your mind of famines.More or less eclipsedby the darkness of my betters.I lay now down to ruinthe art of unsigned letters.To bypass Common Man'spremature…

I Can't Complain

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To tell the truth, I can’t complain. Look, lots of people have it tough. I don’t have it tough...

What He Meant

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I knew exactly what he meant, so I wrote my lover a letter in which I told him that I was getting good advice, finally, and that I needn't return. I knew he was without internet and accepted that he would never receive my message. I asked him if he had been noticing…

Crazy Eyes

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The kid with a testosterone chip Instead of a brain


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You left for the glittery wild of West Hollywood. I guess L.A.'s off-limits now. My heart goes fucking tachy when I drive over Kellogg Hill past Forest Lawn and see the skyline glowing through the rainbow haze of sunset. You're out there, out in the…

Poetry Is Dead

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I know he’s got that Shakespearean forehead But what the heck I got Bohemian balls I got Bohemian balls So to hell with him Come live with me again Come live with me instead I know poetry’s dead But what the heck So’s God, it’s bee


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poked in the eye

Kill it

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my dog had a tumor

this is why I like you

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Monet Clouds

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the slow stretches across the horizon

Bacon's Blood (25)

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Kimmy's wake. Sort of.

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 10

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Sounds terrific, but are there any strings attached?

The Road According To Corso

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It’s like a box set of Baywatch.

Chicken Coup

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" I have no idea what's goin on out here, and I'm gonna find out one way or another."

Fran Landesman and the Sad Songs of Spring

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Why are the best of songs about spring–sad?

the dead of april

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I am sticky with your blood from long ago, when you touched my hips and cornered me into biting your hands. In this way you tried to steal what I was not willing to share.

These Lines These Shadows

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From the movement of the silence and the stillness of the bells From all that stands unguarded in need of sentinels. My world concomitant with some other sphere, that refuses me admittance, elusive yet so near. A physical illusion, a blinding…

Potentially Naked Waitress

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just wondering what one does when age and job skills narrow one's career options

All These Poets

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All these poets with their hands Full of poems are driving Me into the wheat fields like A flock of crows. They offer You a cigarette and light The damn thing with a poem. They give you a little dance, But when they take off…