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We weren't sleeping much, either one of us. We went through the ritual, Pat and I. I brushed and flossed and got into bed and read while Pat took her contacts out and applied a…
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Occupy Wall Street protestors in Boston complained that homeless people had taken coats, blankets and food donated to the fight against income inequality. “They don’t bring anything to the table,” said a spokesman at the information tent.
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Baby Teak can access Wikipedia by rubbing two xylophone mallets together.
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The coin, so little, the watch chain, the youth, the fading softening speech, each hand and finger, the panic modeled on your own eyes, the ashtray, certain stumps along the way, the long distance, the odd feather, the jazz rope gone,…
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"The cops are just doing what they're being paid to do."
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I’m not / going to change you I /promise
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Night LifeThen things started getting weird. I could give you a time frame but it was back when times didn't matter really, one hour as good as the next and the minutes used to be minutes not the digital counting that makes this crazy world now spin. Here was…
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The painting was on loan from a gallery in Chicago. We stood there connecting the dots.
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2008Not a bubble burstbut a trust ruptured.The guilty don't survivebut, rather, thrive. 2011The monied are superior.They game the system well.As we work harder, longer,their paper fortunes swell.2017Marie and Louie were monied once.The Romanovs as well.Fast as blades and…
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There's a mirror in front of me and I thought it was so I could see myself, but I didn't want to see me.
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I was squatting in the living room at the party handling foreign currency. Two W.A.S.P. men in dark grey suits—we were partygoers new to each other—told us to keep the money. We removed the bills from a black leather album.
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you may meet the man of your dreams.
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In her blanched beauty, seated in a silver deck chair, with complacent socialist ways
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His mother hated blue jays, hated them with a passion she usually reserved for no-count trash who drank beer on their front steps and worked on their cars in the street.
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When thinking of the commotion surrounding Wall Street, the serious writer gets very upset.
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eleven seconds of infamy / brought to you by Glenfidditch /who the hell filmed this?
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My mystery woman smiles a hidden smile through her mask, and attempts to seduce me with her eyes. She says not a word, but brings up her hand and beckons me with the classic one finger curl that says, “Come hither.” Her eyes make promises, and she turns:
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If I wrote a war novel my wife would be killed off before our relationship figured out our differences. Like her being really Asian and me being just so-so Asian.
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When we would leave her place I never had a firm idea where I was taking her except I knew - and she knew - that eventually we'd end up back at my place. We did this a lot when her husband, Mack, was out of town. Every couple of weeks his job took him to…
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Ai did not know what to do, nor say. She did not want Manami to suffer anymore than she already has.
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I take her hand. More grey dust rolls off the arms, over the railing, into the wind. It’s embarrassing and I let go. I think she told me to throw them away months ago.
I rub her bare thigh. She laughs real soft like. The corner of her lip curls up.
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When a multinational big box furniture store opened just off the expressway outside the city selling all the same products at greatly reduced prices, they contemplated the possibility of closing their store.
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Any form of exertion would defile what we are trying to do
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Ninety-nine to one
would seem good odds
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We will cut you up and feed you to the sharks.
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Last time I saw the American Dream was Tuesday, down at the Unemployment Office. He was looking pretty worn out, as if being unemployed for over a year was finally getting to him.
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so one time the Holy Ghost come down to Stumptown
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“Nag, nag, nag. This time I’m leaving and I’m not coming back.”
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