Most recent stories

Diptych for Saint Gertrude of Nivelles, Protectoress Against Mice, Rats, and Mental Illness

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So she set about eliminating the problem, all the time recalling some newsmagazine program she’d seen as a child: a discussion of hantavirus, nasty and deadly and spread by mice.

Birds and Beasts

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The world has gone crazy, but please let me make you One of my songs. You can eat it, if you want. It tastes better when it's fresh, but you can also take It with you on long journeys. The world has gone crazy, But not everyone has…

maybe, in winter

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I will wrap up in quilts that still smell of summer sun

Three Short Poems

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no more trying to keep / the peace, no more trying / to keep every person happy. / Just this: no more.

Version - 2.0

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Pale like a tracing of a memory

Bodies Approaching Rest

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He hates this body no less now/ than he did at 14 for its pudginess/ and the hair that can’t conform

Die for the sunset

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we get back to discussing how long a year is although no one talks about what a woman is or a man and they are just there. rocking chairs rock. sitting and spinning, just like spider’s spin waiting for him – to make a coffee.

Six Big Curses

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I ain’t one who don’t sing verses Exactly as they seem But tonight I’ll bring six curses On that new boy you’ve been seeing I know I was only your country mouse And you wanted a bigger house In some other city than I was in With your sch

Make Not Thy Head a Grave

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the emergence of the Beatles and the Vietnam War sad human electricity no buzz of any wheel

Dead Poets

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The night was filled with voices and signals. Roads not taken reappeared. Driving past the anniversary of my death I passed a chipmunk

Of Life

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beware the slice of the knife cutting like a curious comet blasting through solar systems down the throat of the bad ass milky way

Dove Call

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soloing on a high wire

But It Is Difficult

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The day doesn’t budge in its enormity.

Blurred Waters

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He was a boy then, barely ten, when he sat on the edge of the pond, watched the ducks swim, made intermittent ricochets. He didn't exactly know what had come over him that day. Whether it had been premeditated and meant to hurt. Or just an impulse of the moment,…

The Work of Constant Rising

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When did the air become warning?That clairvoyant delft and Delphic sky.What strange and ardent premonitionheld sway? Where were we goingbefore this hard work of constant falling?We were catching cabs and making breakfast,ironing, cursing late trains; hoping the deal…

Colonized Mike, Ch. 10: CRYING AND SUICIDAL

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'It’s a movie,' he knew he couldn’t tell The Pathogen aloud — it would shatter him, obvious as it was.

haiku not much carved

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pens loaded with ink/exceeding or equal to/my volume of blood.

The Well

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It was by the well on one cold early spring morning


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These little things, they are the hope We are hoping for, they are everywhere. I made this one just for you. Call them feathers. Call them roses. You'll See them if you need them. These Little things carry the good news that …

Europa Sonnets - Interstice 1

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Interstice 1 Carved apart for Zion, set against a void,The wrecking dell of yet the Second War,Does Operation Hellstorm fill the floorOf still the firestormed ballroom? We forsworeOur filiality in killing you, and EidBells the invasion's consummation: and besideThe…


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I should care more.

William Faulkner, Insurance Agent

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She was trapped in a prison of her upbringing, far removed from the poverty and degradation and ignorance and pellagra and bad table manners and somebody stop me before I run out of conjunctions.

Story by Committee

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The past has no flavor.

The World Passing By On a Double-Decker Tourist Bus in NYC

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They’ve got the tourists On the top deck of the bus Wrapped up in large yellow Plastic garbage bags Riding through the City in the rain The yellow bags flapping in the wind Yelling in the numerous languages At the top of the world The to


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ghosts keeping watch to ensure no changes; their favoured tables safeguarded with a Reserviert card to ward off the living.

Auden at Swarthmore

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So I went to see the wrinkled and rumpled poet, who insisted on reading from memory, stumbling through his sheaf of poems.

Without You

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Honoring Heritage

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salmon sits gentler on my palate

Junctions / Decisions

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Next to you, the mother tightens her grip on her stroller. The young teenager tears her gaze from her mobile phone for an instant.

Daily Living

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When we are given eternity, as a night is eternal