Most recent stories

In Dreams

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I always wanted to head on up to New York City and be taught by a decent painter, but as time kept on trucking, it became clear that that was just a big dream that would not shake out and I'd never be a real artist because I was shy of the money I'd need to stay up there in…

Dedication

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a special heaven

recipe

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secret recipe

Experimental Poetry

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Sometimes the dirt just stays dirt

[Noon. A, b, C & D.]

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Six clocks are brought to a tool shed, behind the house (three black, two white, and one red.)

Oblivious

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It was cloudy, the way he liked it -- no baking in the sun. People passed occasionally. He sniffed at the joggers, “Health Nuts,” he dubbed them. He hadn’t exercised since his last high school gym class.

Why I Write- Item Seventeen

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I feel I am, in fact,/ the dimmest and least wise/ man on earth.

Icehouse

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It was noon and cloudless when I pulled over next to the icehouse, wedged in the X formed by two dirt roads.

Samurai Kitteh

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She did not know the passage of time, for she was just a bedraggled little kitty, but she stayed behind the lattice for many rising and settings of the Sun.

Fuck Ups

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we try, we keep trying

To The Little Mouse Who Started Feeling Slightly Nauseous

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I heard them praying to some god none of us had ever heard of. I'm glad I went to the funeral and still have the yellow rose that I did not throw into his grave. At some point you have to stop nibbling from the moldy cake.

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 6

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Frank met Angelique Brody on the street in front of his building.

Nodding Off in the Paper Airplane Assembly Line

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The world's anxious fire breathing mob still wants in, but they don't know what in the smoke they are looking for. They aren't really thinking in that intellectual direction. All these wonderful, friendly books you see do not hold the answer or…

Marion and Carolee

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I never took more than a few pills at a time, just enough for a treat on Friday night.

Threshold

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But we proliferated back

Ackermann

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When he took Medieval German Lit in graduate school, Ackermann read Der Ackermann aus Böhmen by Johannes von Tepl. His professor was amused both by his last name and that his grandparents were Germans from Bohemia. Of course, only his grandmother was from Bohemia and…

a different kind of poetry slam

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removing oneself sometimes occurs only on the page

Quantum Mechanics

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It seems a little solipsistic/ but may indeed be evidence of God// given its mystery and caprice.

Beyond The Sense of Ashes

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All are words, so quickly they decay, into silence, spaces that persist, amnesias singing of day. A world without perversityis a world of death,each measure of dissent a measure of applause. Fury signifies you; nothing is everything. Your ascendancy of eyes, in pursuit of…

Happy Hour

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We were in the car more than anywhere else. A few days driving, then a few days to get back home.

Thirty-Two

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This morning Katie and Jimmy are learning about the potters field—the one where Judas Iscariot was buried—from their grandma.

My Friend

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Remember when we went to New York to take our test? We looked for cheap hotels near the test site, and there was the "Hotel Earle." Twelve bucks a night. The clerk behind bullet-proof glass, smiling a knowing smile. Pubes still on the sheets, but we couldn't sleep anyway,…

Drought

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burnt-up leaves rustle and fall

The wooden man: 12 fragments for Easter

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The wooden man came to her in a cloud in a vision in a dream in a story. When he spoke, his tongue clacked against his teeth.——As soon as she woke up, she knew the wooden man was in her belly. She felt heavy with him, fatigued. All she wanted to eat was…

Art exploits

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Against// the mysteries and the dark/ it illuminates and shapes

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 5

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When the cab dropped Frank at his address at seven that evening, he noticed the lights were on in Michiko’s apartment.

Busking for Free

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I'll always remember those warm, weekend twilights on the beach after the frolic of the waves seemed to flatten with the impending dusk, sending the surfers home and, after the bait was spent, sending the surfcasters away, I'd claim a square of sand as my stage,…

Because words are insufficient

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The day you came to the wedding the sky was so, so brightly July./ I saw my face where I left it the last time . . . .

Variations on a Theme by Pina Bausch

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Threads of sadness in the hands, in the touch

The Jewelry of Yaks

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It’s too early in the morning to play the glockenspiel. I’ll just sit here and knit this tiger.