Most recent stories

Wounds & The People Who Poke Them

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My friend once told me about this island of trash in the Pacific. He said that if you threw a piece of trash in any body of water it would find its way there somehow.

Quay 19

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Through by the sands and the rocks we were going and the lake liquid had tumbled the stones by the thousands so that while the water was still we could see agates and yellow jaspers and other or even the odd and misspent piece of rounded glass green or white safe…

Gilbert B Fumbleberry

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“You know, Miss Viv, I love looking at the sun when it’s almost gone. It kinda looks like an orange and apple squished together. Those are the colors. And the puffy clouds under it look like a bed. It’s going to sleep."

20 & 21

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I want to tell you things you do not know.

Don't Eat Cheese Before Bed

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Proudy's head thumped to the burnished brass-accented oak bar and rolled through a multicolored gaggle of parasol-sprouting cocktail glasses, scattering akimbo their umbrellature like a drunken stagehand lumbering through the set of Mikado

Toothpicks

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27 words with title.

My Darling Dead Ones

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Do you remember?

In The Place Between - Part Three

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“I do not know if you can hear me, or if you can talk to me. Some people do not believe in people like you, you know, spirits, ghosts or whatever you are. I do. I know you are here because of what happened here.” I could not speak. I did not feel I could.

The Old Man

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The old man looked expectantly down the street, and, seeing nothing, turned back to his cup of tea. Five dollars this tea had cost him, but it was worth it, not only for its quality- it was exceptional- but for the visitor that cup of tea would bring.

A Proper Passsing

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He trudged up the steep, antique, spiral staircase to his study. Many hours had been spent in the sanctuary of this room, studying, praying, sleeping; however, now his intentions were much different.

On news of your demise

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The news just now that you are dead

The Bridge

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And the urban sprawl doesn’t hesitate. All around me, I taste the aftermath of bricks, dust and dirt, freshly laid concrete slabs.

Mischief

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If you don't want to die, go fetch me a pie

My Girlfriend The Night (Vigil, Rain, and the Round Beet Sun)

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The sun was a red beet and it waited low in the sky but I didn't know for what reason. You could look right at it and forget for an instant about tenement buildings and hydro lines, or the dirty city in general. I tied my shoes and got some water…

Steven's Checks

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They used to send Steven a check in the mail every 2 weeks. It was the only thing he looked forward to, it was the only mail he ever got. When it stopped a month ago he thought maybe it was just a fluke, got lost in the mail, something like that...

Sitting Shiva

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When he left home to be a stand-up comic, he broke his parents' hearts.

Orpheus and Eurydice

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This is hell amongst the bloom and grow. Spring's warmth is cruel, a feast of unrestraint...

Self Help For Daydreamers

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I think I’ll get a tattoo. Not just any tattoo, one I’ll regret. I’ll catch people peering at it, trying to interpret the twists and swirls of the black ink on my fair skin.

Sweet Charity

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Troy approached the podium and cleared his throat.

Another Way

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If there was another way to describe emptiness, I'd word the endlessness of the sky, of the ocean at low tide.

First sonnet

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Shit, I guess I'm gonna hafta

A Fog Will Press Forever at Your Shoulders

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Sandy lay motionless on the ground, death giving her a look only describable as "ancestral."

i went to raves & wrote songs

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A short poem.

Impotent

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I tell myself I should have known. You were always absence.

You Can't Even Clink

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your matching glasses up to mine in the fake air anymore, or click your widening fingernails against the hard bed railings in protest of anything you might be feeling in the floating silt-like depths of your jagged nerves, but…

Your Guide to a WASP Bar Mitzvah

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“The first thing you must remember,” Polly tells the Levensons, “is that every penny you spend on your guests is that much less you can spend on your horses.”

Sunday Morning Series- Two: A Tender Faith

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feeding the lions, tigers

Carly Simon's Ex

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You're so insecure; you probably think this story is about you.Well, you would be right.

Savings Bonds

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"May I help you?" She was beautiful.

Hubris, Now Hollowed

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We laughed like lords and lunatics Our schematics stretched before us