Most recent stories


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Their raging energy felt like a unified force that could catapult itself in any direction at a second’s notice, like a heat-seeking missile targeting the next warm body.

Floating Just Floating

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He didn't know why he kept writing. There was no reason to write. People ceased reading. They played video games. They watched Netflix. They walked down crowded city streets staring at smartphones. He was sustained in some weird way by the momentum of writing. As if the…

Small Ghosts

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the mother tells her child the flashes at the horizonare fireworks, not bombs, so he will not be night he curls by the door or else he follows her to a different place. he is quiet, then. as if he knows the secret challenge.better if he and all the others…

News from a Distant Relative

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(Suddenly, too lazy to pull even one title from his shelves, he thought: if it's now the “Dao De Jing”, shouldn't it also now be the “I Jing”? Alas, he was no translator.)

Death of a Toothbrush (a random observation)

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Gone are the bristles bristling.Embedded with memoriesof crevices that oncefought to hold the spinach or walnuts within.No more feeling the undulatingresponses as the velvety tonguewinces and curls asthe wine is scrapped away.Is it wine, as we stare, oris it blood.Ah, the…

A Brief History of Water

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amphibians returning to the scene of the crime

Dead Man's Pockets

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“You can’t fool us,” the woman with the red scarf said as she waved the stick in Tonio’s face. “You and your friend back there must have killed this man last night by running him over with a truck."

The visitors

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I am a small cottage up on the hill. Every morning, I open my windows and my front door. First enters dawn which turns the walls blue, followed by the sun laying straws of wheat on my table. Inside my cottage the day lights up the dark corners while the lamps go quietly…

MIG Arrangement

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I do not think it good that you, any of you, know what I mean when I say “MIG arrangement.”

Revisionist History

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A break from bleak world history and events...

Breakdown Lane

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I'm on my way to work the Saturday night dinner shift at Slug's

passing in, passing out

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I hate turnstiles and revolving doors

Unpublished MIKE!

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#bitch -- #bitchedybitchedyBITCHBITCHBITCH ;)

Slivers from the edge

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Four ships anchor Far off shore Chains slip Beneath the swell.

New Moon, Old Moon

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The moon once rose on its own Now it takes a series of Ropes and pulleys to get it up Because it’s so old And you can hear these audible groans Coming from its craters As it’s forced to listen to forgotten lovers Obsessing over old lov

Twentieth Century Chats, in Six Acts

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M. CALLAGHAN: I’ve got a lot on my mind. You’re drunk, aren’t you? COL. MORD: Good idea! DEATH: Well, there is no shame in that. J. KIDDING: Everyone suffers. Can you lend me your cat? T. BURKULAR: I don’t know, sir. I don’t follow political issues .


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Is that who we are as a nation, or was that day an aberration?

Colors of the Last Bright Morning

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I am a housekeeper at a private women's college in upstate New York.

Quick Dissolve Mel-atonement!

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"Find the part where you need closure." said She.


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When we were young and small we played in the orchard. Mom made apple pies and fried apples, caramel apples and apple sauce, apple cider. Grandma’s apple butter recipe.

John Nixon Cummin' in Matt Hogue.

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[FARCICAL STATUS ... Keep going to Ladd's, you fucking losers! #talesofatwentyFOURyearoldNOTHING]

Cleft-Split Rock

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Walking here with you on these narrow strands

When I was little

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I was little, very little, when Happiness went away. I moved the entire earth, walked in the ferns, poked in the river. Happiness had disappeared. I looked to the sky. I remember, the sun had the porous face of an orange. Not unlike my skin. My eyes fixed above, I saw it…

Peak Performance

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“It's not like a lobotomy at all,” Dr. Esther said. I could hear the frustration in her voice. I had interrupted her to say that the procedure she was describing sounded an awful lot like one, and that I knew about Frances Farmer and that Kennedy sister that…

Lingering Over Language

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The mornings he comes in

Lost Keys

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The most unoriginal, trite and hackneyed story ever written!

The Song Left in Me

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The sky’s on fire with existence When I’m around you Your wandering kisses enter my soul But your quiet beauty may be What really carries you It is like Finding and touching the Pearl of existence To be near you Was that your tattoo

There Were Giants In Those Days, and the Wickedness of Men

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We laugh at them, parading two-by-two, the elephants rolling tail to trunk across the makeshift gangplank, wide slats flexing under their sway. A pair of snakes contemplates gulping a pair of frogs and their clandestine movements stun a cricket and his mate. Birds squat…


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At fifteen...


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The year begins well here with much needed rain and tee-shirt temperatures.