Most recent stories

The Meeting

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When he leans back from the telescope through which he had been looking, he sports a derby and a Hercule Poirot moustache.

Meat and Bones

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The man who put up the clothes line left his kids upstairs at night and came down to my bed.

Dreams

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"Is a dream a lie if it don't come true, or is…

Assiduity Thirteen

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My relationship with Uzma exists on several levels, from basic to abstract, from animal magnetism to spiritual journey.

Bands I Have Known

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Flu Fighters Hood Ornament Good Hydration Jacques Strappe Tar and Feathers Bad Oyster Band Mysterian and the Skid Marks Nimble Candle and the Streakers Uniball and the Supporters The Skinny Rubber Band

Pastoral Hide & Seek

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The sea dies where a cello torques on sand, leaving me without its compass. An old clock sings.

A Boy and His Tire

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**I think Bridgestone Tire borrowed this story for a commercial. Maybe not, see video and decide.**

Excerpt from the Novella "Iron Butterfly"

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Did I knowingly choose to enter Gloria’s garden and the warm, dark, hollow spaces she offers? Or is it something else that draws me?

Arcana Magi Pure Vol.2 - c.4

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Mayumi could see as far as her eyes could, all the buildings hugged by the trees. Roads stretching outward as if reaching for something far away.

A Novel Begins...

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She was washing the dishes in the sink, (you're not going to start with a pronoun, are you? Give her a name, for God's sake!) Kate was washing dishes in the sink, (where the hell else is she going to wash dishes? In a creek?) Kate was washing dishes (was…

Aftermath

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Oh sweet, sweet morning light

Ex is for Excrement

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You know, the kind of venom between women that is invisible to men.

Scum

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I am in the bad habit of telling people they are the scum of the earth.

December Can Feel Like April Here

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Today the isobars are far apart.

Chasing the “Z” words

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It ain't the steak, it's the sizzle.

34

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The space they are in is years long.

The Number Nine and The One After That

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Johnny K. didn't much like taking his exotic drugs any more. He now thought that the common reality was already an intense enough trip without wrapping it all up in enough gauze to cause permanent daydreams to the head. He liked his cheap hamburgers…

The Problem With Oils

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If you were a painter, and I a poet, we could have conversations about Picasso and Bukowski, and how neither one took a sober breath.

The Vegetable Man

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He'd hug us against our wishes when we tried to get a better look at his cart, his odor a mix of sweet and sour and stink.

Needle in a pocket

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Finding a soft pink blanket I prepared a place by the dirty window where he watched his world from a corner of his life.

Anxious Whittle Anxious

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Son, could you please step out of the car?

My Grandmother's Wedding Ring

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My grandmother and her children spent six weeks living in barns, then were taken for a three day nightmare ride in hot cattle cars to Auschwitz.

The Rats

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I climb up on the sofa and stand next to him. I smell something.

The Finding Smile

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My mother gave her all to convince him to be a politician. My sister begged on bleeding knees for him to give her head. I just needed somebody to help me find things.

Twisting Destiny

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And so, many ideas and stories and wonders crash onto the shores of my conscience...

Error Bars

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Is death like standing in a room at night and turning off the lights? You would still hear your breathing. You hold your breath. Silence. Darkness. Yet you feel gravity, your feet on the floor. Then the air brushes your skin. Remove the air,…

Regret

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Regret takes the shape of little clouds ...

Their Day

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The lace fell through the fingers, wrinkled and nimble they had become too used to avoiding the finite objects in life which needed attention. The white cotton sat loosely on her shoulders, the collar exposed the skin which had become dry and her shoulder

The Night She Took Her Dignity Back

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She had endured three years of abuse for those hot, fleeting moments of tenderness—just enough warmth to keep her second-guessing the bitter frost. Now the ring promised a lifetime of biting back her pain.

Audition

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My piano tutor, a walnut-faced shrew, rapped my knuckles with her small plastic baton to smack them back into the proper tempo, an adagio I’d mastered weeks before. One hour until the audition and damn if this woman didn’t break the skin of two of my fing