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Once upon a time I sat in summer chairs beside cool vine walls. This was in a borough east of the major city, where families gathered in seasonal joy, by blooms fragrant, to worship the summer and its might. There is nothing diminutive about the world when one is…
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Eva stepped out of the hut she and Javier shared and slogged through the mud toward the coop to fetch fresh eggs for Javier's breakfast. None existed. Javier became angry when he didn't get his eggs. Eva slowed her pace as she neared the door. She knew wh
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Just bring me his head, that cerebral kiln of hot, ruddy verbiage and cadence.
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I write to make visible my small/
assertions against impermanence.
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Hey Handsome Rich Kid / Do you want to go boink boink in your Benz?
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It was war without beginning or end.
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I’d made it to the motel parking lot when I heard the footsteps. A sombrero may make me look good, but it does shit for my hearing, so the bastards were able to scoop me up real quick. The first one gave me a hard slap on the top of the head with an opene
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“Mescaline occurs naturally in our bodies, you know,” I said.
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Randy stood in the alley behind Krasnowski Construction with a loaded gun shoved down the front of his pants. His friend Todd was inside, unloading the safe. And when Todd walked out the door, Randy was going to shoot him in the face.
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Six months later, she was teaching theology / to refugees from est.
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“Kids,” I say, commiserating with my partner Bink. “You can’t live with ‘em, but you can live without ‘em.”
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feeling obligated to write/ is like feeling/ obligated to fuck.
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[testing ... one, two, three ... testing ... is this thing on? ... ok, here goes:]
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The life, the burning up that works up our loveliness, hot under the surface that is tempted to show forth its parts after being confined, enclosed, shut in. Beautiful honey-water sliding out of long bleak skies, after all the howling of our legendary you
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Oh, but we have lost-- such treasured souls, at immeasurable costs. Oh, but we do moan and cry-- such treasured souls, no tangible, useable reasons why. Oh, but we whose hearts do bleed-- such treasured souls, we…
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I must apologize for only having words to bring todaywith me. They seem so little to give and not much tooffer you. All their silly little hats seem to have been around with us now for quite some time. Others before me have certainly worn them farbetter…
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The police states of German National Socialism/
and the Soviet Union are but pencil studies
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And then I get a call from a different kind of bar
They say you’re drunk on Cosmos and actin’ quite bizarre.
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She was the clerk in the photography shop.
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i sat in the car for a while
/ even after i arrived at the house
/ facing the garden with my headlights on
/ casting on it a dreary sort of fantasy
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First published on www.humortimes.com
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Life strikes another blow and away I go: back to the cave to sleep, read, write, dream, soothed by rocking chair therapy, spend hours on hours looking at photo memories, lighting incense and candles, crying, howling out the injustices smothering me. …
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1. Premonition “He had a premonition,” Agnes, the widow, said. “He said he was going to die.” “Ma,” Gregg said, “he always said he was going to die. He was the Fred Sanford of Central Ave.” “But this time it came…
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At a candlelit table near the back of the restaurant, Jack and Lois greeted the waiter as he delivered their drinks, a diet coke for him, and for her, a vodka and cranberry. He apologized for the slow bar service and promised to return in a moment to take their…
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"So what about this week's selection?" I ask cheerfully. "What did everybody think?"
"I liked it!" says Liz. She always does--her tastes aren't very discriminating.
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