Most recent stories

A Bite-Sized Piece

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But conversation, like music, is measured in beats, and he waits for more than one, and loses the moment.

Excuse Me, There’s Some Suspicious Activity In the Men’s Room?

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Someone has locked themselves in the large stall They’re smoking one cigarette after another And pulling long stretches of toilet paper off the rolls God only knows for what purpose And yelling for anyone who’s outside the stall To go get them

The Ardennes: Two Vignettes

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In the Ardennes for the the first time...

in the sun

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an artist sits in the sun moving fingers through long hair

Agent 3

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i beat myself back into the littlon fish door, the algae sealing strip connecting as it does. Eons ago, i fell, and andy and i met with hands of crab and lobster in an eleborate room benaeth here, but I know very well, i am not him

Objects in a Field

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Cacophony of an engine-braking eighteen-wheeler/ scatters the crows to fences, trees and wires/ in a startling chant of caw, caw, caw.

BUNGEE

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The drop is like a hangman's drop, an executioner's, but farther and longer, perhaps three or four seconds.

Dubious Appetite

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Looking back now, examining from a distance the sequence of events I failed to connect as anything beyond queer happenstance...

People Get Haircuts

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like they are trying to not get noticed by fickle death. It clearly marks them in a targeted way. Very ironic. Here's the only message I want you to ever have from me : quick, scramble like a monkey with a stolen banana in your tiny hairy…

A Worthy Caws

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It started with crows. I'd walk the switchback trail to the top of the park with its outlook of the city and if I didn't see any crows I'd whistle and they'd come swarming from everywhere. I'd give the peanuts a toss and the crows would caw their heads off and peck at…

The Night Before School Starts

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A familiar ritual by now...

Arion, the poet

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Nearly everyone knows of that celebrated poet’s story coming down to us from classical Greek mythology: the tragic tale of Orpheus and his descent into the underworld to rescue his beloved Eurydice. Well, there’s a much lesser known story of a legendary 7

The Museum of Inner Light

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On the way to The Museum of Inner Light Expect delays Expect bumps in the road Expect potholes and such Expect a murder of crows Rolling acorns over the rooftops But what I want to know is who Who eats a butterfly On the way to

Sometimes, Death

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He was surrounded by bats and stalactites and skeletons greeted him and dead celebrities moaned and neon signs -- props from defunct game shows -- were hung up as far as the eye can see.

The PRIMA DONNA & THE CHAUFFEUR: A Love Story! (in full, living colour!)

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You shouldn't look at my undies! I'm gonna kill you if you look at my undies again, you goddamn bastard! :)

Paleo Prophet

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We are insatiable

Framed Papers

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He fished a tissue from a hidden pocket and dabbed his forehead, then called the cops.

solace

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the frost has made all tender greens bow

Fly Fishing For Bats

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then something like a shark gnawing on a harpsichord. Her drum kit apparently is an entire laundromat. A pocketful of marbles spilling in rivulets, down a set of narrow linoleum steps, merrily as two warblers splashing in a birdbath. several octaves below

Tough Guy

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He remembers his father’s concrete slab hands. Balled into fists they resembled kettlebells.

First Love

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What happened then was not entirely innocent or spontaneous. I had been impressed by a scene in Some Came Running by James Jones, where the teenage writer sneaks his girlfriend home and makes love to her on his childhood's bed.

My Alice

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My story begins where so many have ended, strapped fast to a cold table, just moments from a lobotomy needle and anything resembling the man that I am.

It's Tough

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got the space heater going in the desert got a lot of space out there somewhere

You Would Not Find Me

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and I saw this man mopping a floor. He did not look like a monk, and he was smiling at something I could not see. You would not find me and I was beautiful. You would not find me and you closed that memory. I thought that was unfair and maybe it…

Spinneret

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It's true. I like to walk on the ceiling. But please. Don't hold it against me. The ceiling is cold. Nobody lives there. Just a spider. A curious arachnid. She lets herself down sometimes. If I'm on the bed, trying to sleep, staring at the ceiling, watching her…

October

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For a few/ vivid weeks, deciduous shrubs and trees/ will seem to glow like flames and embers

Uncontrollable

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The paper was strewn, everywhere.

In the Life

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You had autumn in your hair I liked the way you sat at a table And drank champagne My past years have carried me To sixteen countries Christ, we have so much to share Listen, I know how the other half lives And we can’t live like that an

Mean People Suck

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He said his wife levitated.

The Continuum of Flames

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Molly was from dull and wet Kansas City, Missouri, where she learned to pass the time in the many record shops and bars that lined it's inconspicuously storied streets, catching the attention of a young red blooded all American Kansas City man, from time