Most recent stories

Tuesday, Before Noon

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It came up heads so he is going first. He puts on a condom and gets in

Jim

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Jim twisted the skinny trunk of his body in a fast, violent jerk just as the cop grabbed the buckle of his left Harley Davidson boot. When the boot flopped off, Jim found himself sitting upright, ready to jump up and run. But then he felt the baton lock down on his…

Living Through Fuzzy

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They politely urged him not to get too involved with his creations.

The Rest Nowhere

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A screaming comes across the brain

Oh, Clyde. I must be your Bonnie.

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This is the best kind of crime scene. Spattered like gore from gunshots, I'm left covered in trace evidence.

Child's Play

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Walking east, he pauses, Picks a cassava, Cleaves the melon in two; He tears juicy chunks Of flesh to cleanse the blade.

77 Words About Nothing (Triad)

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My mind has started to finish thoughts at 77 Words. These are just a few.

A New Chapter to Song of Solomon: A Poem

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My beloved lets me crawl into bed and put my feet on him since his skin is warm and hot like a fire roaring from within his soft flesh.

Post-Revolutionary Sports Boredom

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It isn’t easy being the #1 Jewish lesbian revolutionary bank robber in America–every Rebecca and Rachel who comes down the pike tries to knock you off.

Black Lace (a revenge fantasy) 1

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The stainless steel tiles are cool upon the soles of her feet. Attendants have arranged all of her equipment, both digital and mechanical, including ink and needles. An overhead screen snaps into view, and his young muscled body is revealed.

Canary House

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The items were not selected. The people were not forced to choose, with tears and a suffocating feeling.

Milo

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I call him a Staffordshire terrier. You call him a pit bull. Some people say he's lovable. Other people say he'll bite your face off without thinking too hard.

The Ice Cream Mantra

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Chant the ice cream mantra. Prance the do dah day ballet. Trot the t-bone tango two-step. Dance the livelong day away.

Owl, Glass, Deer

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He calls it an owl glass: he’s allowed: he’s six.

Graybeard – a Series

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The abundances of age/ are of commodities/ no known demographic values:

Book of Forgetting

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To make your own, obtain a book with blank pages. Collect materials; postcards, photographs, magazines. Make rules to determine what you do with them. Write things down. Make other rules to determine whether you write in the book or on pieces of paper

Charlie Brown’s Diary: Excerpts

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Snoopy flies in today. His goggles scratched, one ear torn and bleeding, but his eyes aglow.

There's a Pube in My Coffee

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Connor didn't bother to wait in the line of busy professionals, opting to cut in front of the sign that announced "Line Forms At Other End."

Sorry

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...society has tampered with its denotation so much that it is almost incomprehensible without context.

My nose

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When I was 14 I accidentally heard a woman saying behind my back

(The Larger Structure) is the Poem

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. . . with reference to the Compass of Discourse

Oh, Danny Boy

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I wore a padded bra. Proud of my tits. D. ordered a Bloody May, I had a vodka tonic. After the second drink I slipped out into the fog, and smoked a little weed. I could see Long Island College Hospital across the street. To my right, the BQE rose up

The Crazy Woman in the Bookstore

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“How do you know she’s crazy? Seems to me that’s a perfectly rational reaction,” she said without looking up at first, but then glancing at him with a sly smile.

Cry Wolf

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"You are wolves circling, eyes burning in the dark...."

Another Time

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Papa was fucking the artist’s wife, Lillian, and the artist knew it but was afraid to say anything and she had broad, muscular brown arms and loved the sun on the sea and also she was just as athletic as the great writer and caught the big fish right alon

Today: Journal, July 21, 2007

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Sex is a sad reason to be alone with someone.

The Sun Eaters

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And in the end, when there was nothing left and we all had come to look like whispers, we ate the sun.

A Blowhard Drops By

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So, I say, what is the answer? The answer to what? You know. The song by Bob Dylan. The answer is blowing in the wind. You’re the wind. So what’s the answer?

Shadow of a Bone

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...the shadowy Samantha sitting up in bed...

The Phosphorescent French Fry

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She's speaking again, this time in whispers. Her head is shrinking in on itself. If there is a way to save her I'm not aware of it.