Most recent stories

Cornfield

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This is not a story you expect to end at Cape Horn.

The Death of Narrative

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“Why, you tell a story,” one young fellow said. The expression on his face said “How gauche, how passé!”

For August and Enkidu

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Even among the thousands of black cats/ in the world, though, he would nonetheless/ be my favorite with those impurities of light brown tufts

Carousel Horses

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From this distance, he reminded me of a sleazy pink flamingo, waiting for feeding time at the zoo to deepen the timbre of his feathers and hint at the promise of a narcotic aviation before his commune of hens.

New skin

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For ten minutes I would have to sit perfectly still on the edge of her bed, thinking of Road Runner and the Flash and wishing I could do anything but sit there with my feet in warm, foamy water.

In Season

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He saw in her something fierce and wild and gently led her to his open palm...

GOT

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I don't know how long I was down on the curb. When I came around it took several minutes to realize that it wasn't the moon overhead at all but a street light and the sticky feeling stuff I was lying in was, yeah, my blood. And the hand on my shoulder wasn't hers. I…

This Story Isn't About You

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"This story isn’t about you, even if it seems as though it is."

April

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Well, hello hunger: what a sweet surprise.

bunk

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I bit her ear and / it was burnt toast

The Day You Told Me You Fucked Her

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I imagined you going at her in ferocious fucking-- / O, O, O, O, O, O, O Immortal Glistening Cock,

Birds of a Feather

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Contention over market share/ is bred in them and we are cousins

Hyena Spit The Poem

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is

The Chance of Rain

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I'm still working on this. I'm always open to your thoughts.

Queens and Kings

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I underline the passages Momma does in her Bible and circle the same words she does, of the oil Samuel uses to anoint David...

Ethics

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If I wanted cautious I wouldn't be in her bed. She would only sleep with her husband. Adultery is not for pussies. So I dive back into the conversation which has made my dick limp and ask where I'm wrong in our post-coital chatter and she says it doesn't

Conditions of a Narrator

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Moore doubted, perhaps, that readers could sympathize with a man who had killed someone for a cause or a girlfriend who forgave him. Perhaps she felt that maiming is (not) worse than murder. Perhaps she decided that the story should be about that.

The Energy of Girls

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Emma and I were in a shabby part of town with vacant lots and overgrown yards, and I wondered if something would happen as we loped beside Tom, who was slow-witted and 21. We were 13 . . .

It's a Wonderful Life

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My wife is making lunch. I suggest leftover pizza. We are going over to the neighbor’s house for pizza tonight, my wife says. I tell her that’s okay. I like pizza.

We're All Guys Here

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The doorbell rang while Ron was masturbating.He closed his eyes tight. Tried to hold the image of Lori bent over the arm of the couch. No use. It was gone. Ron sighed, then levered the recliner down. Tied on the terry-cloth robe Lori had given him. He kicked aside an empty…

This Train Is Bound For Paoli: A Multiple Choice Essay

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Train 664 leaves Thirtieth Street Station bound for New York City at 10:55. Concurrently, Train 663 leaves the station, headed for Harrisburg. Both trains are, confusingly, called The Keystone.If Mark and I have tickets for Train 664 because we plan to…

At the Jr. Algonquin Roundtable

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“He didn’t finish ‘The Witchcraft of Salem Village,’” Scooter says, tattling on his little brother. I’m projecting him to be a first-round draft pick by the National Security Agency in about ten years.

Born in 1991

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Sometimes I think living in a house with so many rooms / you can get lost just making your way to the fridge / should be enough. I chastise myself for wanting more.

Haiku For Birthdays

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Where is Now and When is There?

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The floor dissolves beneath us, pierced by lasered/ glare of countless eye-beams.

Disparity

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sacred ground bleached with the salt of bitter tears

'Bout Time

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Five Million Yen: Chapter 50

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Ben did not respond, but sat staring lizard-eyed at the shattered remains of his glorious musical instrument.

Let the Others Drool

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They are all sleeping, but I know better. I will keep watch and if he comes tonight I will be alert and ready. When he arrives he'll see the slack mouths, the graceless sprawls, hear the grunts, snorts and snores of the other women and then he'll sense me. My eyes will…

Big Hotel Inside of Jungle Brain

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He's not something you'll want waiting for you inside your living room's ear. Go and see your family. Breathe the broad daylight whenever you can. I got lost in some free form dog caves. That's all. That's no path to aspire to …