Most recent stories

A Journey (on Foot) Through Hostile Lands

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Love comes and goes as it pleases. Plant lives matter you know. Isn't it so obvious? I'm sure you've noticed or felt like you've been here before. Maybe forever. Just ask any hand-held camera or open book. Well. How many times can we…

More from The Chronicles of His Demise

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Dread and drudgery sour each day

pop music till yer brains bulge blue!

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every color of sound turned to green / human beasts’ treadmill tastes must be trained: / we may yet starve to death, but we’ll die de-brained!

A Burst of Color

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There’s a sudden Burst of color Like the dispersal of a ghost In a light wind And now candy wrappers are Scattered all over the heavens It looks like God got lit up By the sky As we flew too c

You Should Know

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Do you know how much it takes to holdthe spring you love against your lips? No angel, or I, will ever begrudge, nor the planets that have to slow their pace and stumble their orbits a degree behind to make the magic that keeps our grip. We could have been elephants…

Schadenfreude

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It's 50/50 that you'll ever pad your knee enough to ever kneel on it. Your back hurts, the Orthapedist labels it arthritis. I think that means we're getting old, so I crawl up the tower of your body as I'm a little younger, more sprightly. You're a

Surge Of Green

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Already past the harbinger of yellow crocus

Gusts

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a girl in a red cap flashes by

deja not

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I haven't felt my soul leave my body

Confession

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As a boy Edward had stayed in the confessional several times in a row. The priest was drunk and couldn't tell it was the same kid over and over. The tiny door slid open…”Scobbity bobbity…tell me your sins…” Edward confessed what he thought were sins, then said…

The Roses of Gettysburg

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Mothers and sons and war, an old story...

The Generosity of Perishable Objects

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"As soon as you're born, they make you feel small."--John LennonI cannot do anything about how beautiful you are, my sour flower, but I can tell you this much: Joni Mitchell is better than all the cowards in the world. They all chose to somehow…

Contortionist

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a poem that unwrapped itself so casually I tucked it under my tongue, just to make sure

Visitations

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The squirrels love the sun

the curtained claws of shade

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with so many thick curtains hung out to shroud/ so many unlit eyes, Night you’d think could spare/ a small few for our diversion . . .

Frankly, I'm Not Doing Well

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TW: Self-harm. I wanted to write a mental health essay that wasn't all rah! rah! and with as little sentimentality as possible. Out of everything I've published, I've gotten the most feedback from this--people telling me it helped them understand a loved one better, etc.…

anura

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still to early to dodge leaping bodies on misty roads at night

More Of My Dark Job History

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In my 14 to 15 year old life in the late 50s I worked as a clean-up boy in the neighborhood butcher shop up on 5th. Ave.,

Nathaniel

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sometimes i have to be in the other room just so i can breathe easy away from you.

Yet More from The Chronicles of His Demise

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The Muse//has used/ me up

concession to the shapes of hunger

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(no one need fear timidity in our tastes― / we like trying new things, no matter our hastes!)

Lorelei

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It was all things considered a particularly odd sight, which Annalise did not know how to handle.

everything moved in circles

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everything moved in circles like the music, the booze and the drugs

The Four Despairs of Lumpy

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children love to push the gas up and down my limbs

Sisters

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Jo was tailored, Amy was frivolous with ribbons and bows, Meg was plain and sensible; and Beth, who was ill and had no costume changes, wore the same nightgown throughout the dress-up session.

Last Night

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If they are all speaking medicine & I / start speaking French - how / rude am I? Would they understand then / what it is to be entirely left out / of the conversation, unseen?

There Were Giants Upon the Earth in Those Times and the Wickedness of Men

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A pair of snakes contemplates gulping a pair of frogs.

Brand

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Nobody buying...

Why Things Are Just OK with Me

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With such demeaning precarity, I can’t read/ anything more than a thousand words

Benny and Sylvia

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Benny and Sylvia rolled apart, still laughing, caught up in the magic. They always laughed afterward her cheeks always dark red, apples ripe for picking. A little backwards he thought since her apples had already been picked. Even better, he had picked them and it…