I looked at your long fingers in the sunlight, / pale and delicate as paper, and I thought: / Those same fingers were in someone’s pussy

That’s how I’d met him really: drinking games. We’d both been at the local watering hole, challenging the other patrons to drunken games of chance and making a clean sweep of it. A few guys figured themselves for alpha dogs had Teqs cornered after he’d ta

From across the crowded bar, past the be-suited lobbyists and in between the plates of fried calamari and glasses of cabernet being hustled to and fro by the Salvadoran waiters, Travis could see that John had changed. Not much, but enough to be noticeable. A little grey…

Rose would have preferred to survey the wreckage alone, between sips of her earl grey, but the morning light drew her attention to blonde and jet black curls weaving into folds of fabric.

Energy is constant though it may manifest/ as dust motes atop the housing of your monitor/ and in the fibers of the filter of your fan coil unit

I wrote a poem and asked a professor to read it. / He said: IMAGE IMAGE IMAGE IMAGE / like a mad man on meth, foam running down / his mouth crowded with sharp, shimmering teeth.

My kid chased the umpire back to his crappy Honda Civic and flipped it over–at the age of 10! That's what steroids can do for you.

"Soviet Mandelstam rose like Christ from the Nightmare, Rises from the gulag, sunrise on the page."

She waited on the hot, broken pavement, arm outstretched, her thumb a ticket to a distant, refracted horizon. Waves of heat danced like undulating snakes under the spell of a charmer. She pictured herself passing through them, abandoning the green of home for the…

Because we are exceptional,/ our 3000 dead in New York/ exceeds in impact that of 75,000/ burned at Nagasaki,

My job was take the falls, act the dope, finish at the wrong end of the slap stick for the blow off. I was Auguste, the fool; I drove the clown car.

What does she have / that I don’t have / that I can’t buy / for myself?

jaws blossoming with drool,/ a captured wolf slinks low/ across the crowded land/ for that most tender lamb/ to catch it by surprise.

But you're everywhere, how can I move on? It's so easy for people to say, Get over it, the ‘it' being the smell of your skin, your smile, the taste of your lips, always sweet and salty, like a carnival treat. Remember that neon night when we knew it was over, how we…

So we stayed on the train admiring the time.