Most recent stories

Little Secrets

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There is no honesty. Wars are never over. We want to be loved, but not loving. I know you're not listening. You tell me so every second. Forgive me. There is no backyard safety without also vulnerability. You can take all super…

With The Eyes Of A Child

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Polly

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Polly hated high school. She hated all the routines: the getting up in the morning, the waiting for the bus, worrying about being late, all the other kids, you name it.

I'll Show You God

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...the room was filled with a brightness and a breeze, making you think you were up in the clouds.

The Tale of a Fat Ugly Crow on a May Afternoon

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a fat crow rapturously caws over its good fortune... not a morsel left on the street, not even a bloodstain

Nervous-WRECK *VEEK*

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[Scumbag scumbag ― fuck you!!! Stop reading this it's my private JOURNAL!!! Thanks. ;) ]

A Borrowed Barrow

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It was a battered, creaky, rickety old thing, this wheelbarrow. It had two wooden handles with cracks running through the wood, a fat rubber wheel and a deep tray encrusted with the mud and plaster and grout that it had transported through decades of heavy use. Based on…

Nostalgias and Anachronisms, Past and Present

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The ineluctable, inexorable rush of time on the surface of Planet Earth can come as no surprise to anyone if we dare to believe our astrophysicists.

4th of July 2022

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That thing is a water pipe

Tying Flies

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He plucks the feathers and winds thread to simulate an insect’s torso.

This Poem Has No Title

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...Or perhaps it has; It depends which way you look at it. Perhaps the reader may cite laziness As my reason for not titling this Any other than I would have done As now, with such a title As it has, since for some reason I never…

Spellbinding

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If she weaves words that are true enough

Late July

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The cicadas struck their soundsTheir ribs made a clicking drumThe sound was formed over buckling ribsvibrations sounds like a maracas bangle beatingShe sat up in a lounge chair trying to sleepThe tiny ants she found tickling her armThey crawled from some hole…

That Pill

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It’s good to have some, Extra weight - Something they can Grab on to, In the sheets, When it’s late-

moms

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a few Hershey's Kisses tucked in with the note

Transformations

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Some nights now I sit at my window

The Time Traveler

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My work is not that sexy and glamorous kind of time travel that you see in the movies with Deloreans and phone booths.

I Must Want it. No, I Must Need It.

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She rubs her head into mine...

On the Deeper Slants of the Universe

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Everything makes sense.

Broken

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I rang the doorbell. Claire opened the door, wearing jeans and a T-shirt. I opened my arms to give her a big hug. She stiffened and pulled away. Stunned, my lips parted, but I couldn’t think of a single word to say. Ideal, Phillis. ”Broken”, Pure

The C.I.A. is trying to kill my GRANDMOTHER!!!

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Don't forget to fuck me. Blow me. Suck me. Don't forget to fuck me. [REPEAT 2X]

Who Was This Guy

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Luke and Diane sat at a round white table looking around the room. There were clusters of people forming an archipelago of cordial exchange and small talk. All but a few were strangers, friends and family of his sister-in-law Mary, now a widow, though the word sounded…

Going Home: 1937

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yeah time travel

Гумилёв и Ахматова via странников

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Walking down an unfamiliar street, / I heard a sudden caw of crows, / some thunder afar, strums of a lute— / a streetcar came flying along.

In Quietude

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For Algernon Afloat, on tidal difference's separated songs Let nothing spare her mention, still belongs That sterile tone mismissioned to my ear What love's illusion balanced most when throngs Of hummingbirds advanced, methinks, to hear…

April Haiku

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A sardonic moon/ surveys our plight and cackles.

The Musk of Civilization

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He bought his zillion-dollar megaphone,

A Message in Red-Brown Style

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The important thing is to repeat the keyword

The poplar

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Sometimes we hurt ourselves, we scratch ourselves, we bleed — for a simple joy... All I wanted to do was to find the poplar again — the tree of my young arms, of my budding breasts. My fingers used to circle around its bold and vigorous waist, but in the…

Apocalypse in G # Minor

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"What's it like?" Like everything else. We all do it, so how bad could it be?