Most recent stories

early spring

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the late snow, though not welcomed...

Blonde Cabaret Dancer in Waxwork Museum Shocker

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Superfluous and petite, she closes her eyes, acts like they are open. She thinks she's Marlene Dietrich, contemplates Erotica involving Vincent Price riffing an electric accordian. She has no knowledge of perfection, rendering her perfect by default. She is…

Written Six Weeks Before

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March 16, 2006 My mail, e-mail, and phone calls go from the ridiculous to the sublime. Apologies for the cliché, but I can't resist its perfect applicability: In my mailbox today yet another catalogue of boob jobs in bikinis and an invitation to explore…

Where's Waldo?

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Over his usual ham sandwich and Pepsi for lunch Uncle Waldo used to often say, “Going out in the dead of night without a flashlight is dangerous” and I'd nod but I kept slipping out, sneaking down my secret path and take a dip in the rich neighbor's pool because…

Arcana Magi Memorial Vol.5 - c.4

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Sora and Ciel stood before Dean Morden inside his office. It felt weird to the girls looking at him sitting behind Madam Mayweather’s desk

Little Tech Puppies In the Artisan Beer Hall

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Little tech puppies, well compensated for code/ that outsourced laborers will realize in supercheap,/ superchipped gewgaws, sip artisan beers

Betrayal

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Betrayal of course is the great human crime. As I found out when . . . .

Using Proven Scientific Methods to Get Published

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I have a ninety two percent rejection rate.

Song Without Wonder

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What I’ve got is priceless, but no one wants it. Hmmm. I wonder if I can give it away, or have to haul it to the dump? What I have is priceless. Priceless. What I have is priceless, but no one wants it.

Day Care

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"This is where the children play," the woman said cheerily. She gestured toward the flat bed of a pickup truck. The edge was surrounded by a makeshift wooden fence that looked like it had been made out of old orange crates.

D.H. Lawrence Ghazal

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How many shadows in your soul? Close your eyes, my love, let me / make you blind as the wings of a drenched, drowned bee.

In tidal relief

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the world slips under the waves

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 1

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Before he was Francesco Martinelli

aromatic

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this bleeding sun, clove studded & seedless

Glad the Moon Worked the Night Shift

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When we were seventeen, after her dad, the preacher, finished his Sunday night church services that required our mandatory attendance, we'd walk to my car in the pasture-turned parking lot holding hands and stop at the passenger-side car door to kiss deeply, get…

My Children in Times New Roman

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This test should not be a riddle, it's a simple yes/no. The answer should settle curiosity with an image. One line or two, plus or minus. I say something like this, and the customer service rep asks me to hold.Thing is, I know the answer. I'm moody. My breasts feel like…

The Power

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the silence of the hardwood floors blisters into fragments

A Story with Tahini in It

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"What do you mean..."

Moonlight Thru A Metal Gate

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Like sun-stream through a spider's web I came with nothing left to master, at least nothingtoo abstract. Like moonlight thru a metal gate I emitted what was animal, without ceremony, without fate, only the diagonal, only the hexagonal, only configuration. …

No Such Thing

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People could disappear in the Pine Barrens and never be seen again. Either by their own choice or when someone didn’t want the body found. John Dance knew that was just a part of life you had to accept and couldn’t change.

The Bird Nests of Lascaux

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With their brightly-colored bits of found string woven into the walls of their nests to teach their baby birds what the worms of the future will look like. Somewhat like the cave paintings of Lascaux for early man in France, when hunti

Dumb Luck and the Fall of Empires

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At some point we all reach the end point/ of something. Something important/ if only to our fragile self esteem.

The Gatekeeper Of The Pathogens

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It was in his teeth. A blackness, a subscription to an outsideness, a painful contraction of burnt out trees scattered there among sand drifts and tidal debris. His face, lightly weathered and troubled, a tightness built into eyes of thought and separation. His arms, strong…

forever

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over tea & saltineshe read melike an obituary

First Person

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We're each other's inside out. (100 words)

Excelsior - A Poem in 9 Parts (post 2 of 5)

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II. ByCoalport Your hair streams minarets across a bridge, The…

Advice For Aspiring Writers

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Published writers will tell you that the most important thing you can do as a beginning writer is to know your markets! So this month, we'll talk about two of the markets open to you and your riveting but as yet unpublished prose -- Fling Magazine and Clubhouse…

Gateway to the Continent

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I got to Victoria station at quarter to eleven on a Friday with nothing but a small leather bag and the vague idea of getting out of London.

One Way (for Tina Kieffer)

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This mother, she buys a one way ticket whenever she visits her three daughters who have wandered far from the eyes of her pearlescent knitting needles and tutti-frutti yarns.

An Apricot the Size of a Heart

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I dreamt, said the Donkey, of an apricot. An apricot the size of a heart. …