Most recent stories

Frankly, I'm Not Doing Well

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TW: Self-harm. I wanted to write a mental health essay that wasn't all rah! rah! and with as little sentimentality as possible. Out of everything I've published, I've gotten the most feedback from this--people telling me it helped them understand a loved one better, etc.…

anura

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still to early to dodge leaping bodies on misty roads at night

Any Fish On Sale?

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I have shellfish and sailfish

More Of My Dark Job History

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In my 14 to 15 year old life in the late 50s I worked as a clean-up boy in the neighborhood butcher shop up on 5th. Ave.,

Nathaniel

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sometimes i have to be in the other room just so i can breathe easy away from you.

Scrutable

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You clever code-breaker, subtle lifter of veils.

Yet More from The Chronicles of His Demise

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The Muse//has used/ me up

The Morning Room

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SHE put her suitcase on his threshold and pulled the old bell. He opened the door:"Mariline ...""Father ..."She had met him at her mother's funeral some months before. Holding his frail and docile arm, she had confined all thoughts within a wreath in an effort to keep her…

concession to the shapes of hunger

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(no one need fear timidity in our tastes― / we like trying new things, no matter our hastes!)

States of Existence

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I’ve fallen beside the sunrise I’ve fallen beside the sunset As well and died I see your face in the shadows under clouds I see your face everywhere And I haven’t even tried But there you are You’re everywhere I look Even when I’m no

Lorelei

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It was all things considered a particularly odd sight, which Annalise did not know how to handle.

everything moved in circles

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everything moved in circles like the music, the booze and the drugs

Sand

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Senseless, inevitable.

The Four Despairs of Lumpy

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children love to push the gas up and down my limbs

Train Rhythms

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“Well, that depends. Some people, they go to a very good place. And some go to a very bad place. And some don't go anywhere. Just depends on what you believe.

Input? Source? Surrender?

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What a mess.

Sisters

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Jo was tailored, Amy was frivolous with ribbons and bows, Meg was plain and sensible; and Beth, who was ill and had no costume changes, wore the same nightgown throughout the dress-up session.

Seventh Love Poem and Seventh Song of Despair

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loving yourself, though highly recommended, never seems adequate

Last Night

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If they are all speaking medicine & I / start speaking French - how / rude am I? Would they understand then / what it is to be entirely left out / of the conversation, unseen?

There Were Giants Upon the Earth in Those Times and the Wickedness of Men

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A pair of snakes contemplates gulping a pair of frogs.

Brand

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Nobody buying...

Why Things Are Just OK with Me

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With such demeaning precarity, I can’t read/ anything more than a thousand words

Benny and Sylvia

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Benny and Sylvia rolled apart, still laughing, caught up in the magic. They always laughed afterward her cheeks always dark red, apples ripe for picking. A little backwards he thought since her apples had already been picked. Even better, he had picked them and it…

Morning Concerto

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the continuous racket, a buzz saw trumpet

Death Hitches a Ride

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We passed a dead cat lying up against a guard rail, its fur stringing and wet and exposing its bloated skin which had a purple tint to it. Not my work, Death said, smoke trickling out of one eye socket.

The Infamous Kiss

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When the sailor heard the 2nd World War had just ended He grabbed the woman in the white dress Bent her backwards in Times Square And kissed her real good And the photographer Just happened to be there At the right moment But then As

Li Bai, stoned

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Li Bai'd spy his jug/ pity for his lonely wine/ pours his pipe a cup.

Teddy

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I'd had way too many drinks. My legs were quivering. Everyone had gathered there in the kitchen, my sleek and attractive ex-wife the center of attention, all the men fucking drooling over her. Seems she was a yoga queen now, a vegan princess, a dancer somewhere. She…

As She Sat Waiting

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IN the waiting room Maggie watched Joe rise and shuffle his best shoes towards the doctor's door. Standing, he seemed frailer, so frail she felt guilty for having given him a push on the bus step. Other pushes came to annoy her. But before she actually felt the pain of…

Meet Your Happy-Go-Lucky Poet

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"Time is an ocean, but it ends at the shore. You may not see me tomorrow."--Bob DylanThey're writing poems, but not for me. Guess I'll write one of my own. For nobody I know now. It's a pretty lonely world for someone who sings, not you, not with…