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Guns in the House

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Jack would have felt betrayed, and my parents alarmed, had they ever suspected me of playing with Jack's guns, but I found the temptation overwhelming.

'MY DICK IS SO HARD FOR JESUS!' by Christofascist Jones

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"Now, I'm not no Holocaust Denier . . . I just think it was a little bump in the road! Like Reagan said about Watergate . . . 'Mistakes were made,' and all. Well, shoot . . .…

Stuff

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Art books, paintings, antique chairs, marble tables, full length gold gilded mirrors, oriental rugs, tapestries, a Louis XVI painted French armoire, a wrought iron Deco coffee table, flat ware, silver flasks, mantel lamps, iron gates, a silk settee, theat

Supermarket Blues

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Man on aisle nine looking for the answer to cancer Will the partially clothed couple on aisle four please put the rest of their clothing back on If you are finished doing whatever it was you were doing? Man on aisle five trying to imagine Whil

O'Arlo's Journal: About Myself

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Every morning if I don't have to go potty....

Three in a Major Key

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One can watch the grass green/ in response. One can watch the world green/ in response.

On Advertising

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As you can see, egotism forms at a young age for people who end up in this industry.

Starry Night

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I invited Van Gogh over for some drinks and a chat. I'm talking about Vincent.

The Body in the Other Room

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I couldn’t parse the grammar of her body nor decode the secret softness of her neck.

Where Is Daddy?

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He checks the bedrooms first, then the hallway, followed by the living room and the bathrooms. When he can't find you he takes to calling out, daddy, I'm sure the neighbors hear.

All You Wanna do is to Sink (but you stink)

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into another bright vat of boiling over hot lies. It's sick, man, the way you'd rather dig for a supposed (royal) buried treasure than make a new beautiful thing start to happen, breakyour back, break your spirit, over and over, until there's nothing left to…

the weather past where roads end

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a soft wooden clatter, wind-battered reeds/bound to the banks of ditches rank,/ill-purposed waters slide into low swamps/whose waters into rivers seep and crawl.

How We Open Doors

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-- as if I had / only rung the rusted bell --

Jon Bon Joviettes: A Love Letter to the Bistro

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"Oh, sit on my face oh won't you? Your velvety wetness would provide a nice counterpoint to the upholstery of the sofa-matching easy chair, crummy but that's the charm of this hipster-ironic dive playing 80's crap so I have to cram your music in my…

Contentions

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...a session/ of hide and seek/ among the syllables.

The List

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Agnes folded the magazine in her lap. It was one of those women's magazines that had a picture of a supermodel on the cover. The girl was pencil thin and not that attractive, at least not as far as Agnes was concerned, and she was surrounded by boldface words encouraging…

"It's the dead of midnight, and Orion wheels round..."

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It's the dead of midnight, and Orion wheels round- With passing road-streams as its parallax, cars More distant from us, as the next one's windows Blocks the view of riders free from traffic lanes; I Am not your window. As you glide, or go to…

Buddha in the backyard

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He sits ...

Control

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I’m afraid

Arcade

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My father owned a penny arcade. I worked for him every summer all during my youth. My job was to hand green tickets to customers who achieved a certain score on Skee-Ball or shuffleboard. The coupons could be redeemed for merchandise which we had on display on…

Donnie's end

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I pointed, trying to keep a rising frisson of alarm from my voice.

Hospital, or Depression III

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Yes sir, I confess there have been timeswhen I did not care how young the earth isor take pride in how she sprang back to greenregardless of how hard the snow fought.There have been times, yes, when I lacked the willto notice such things and knew that belowthe water's…

"A bit less hot Tuesday"

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The faces of the sun remain unaltered across the seven day forecast. I am sweat-glued to a poem, looking up at the wall-mounted TV in a diner in the Valley

Barbarian(s) Within the Gates

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This writers' conference (sponsored by VQR, which had run its banner ad atop the Fictionaut home page in the summer of 2014, which begins to explain both my attendance and this essay) revealed itself as an apt subject . . .

The Cicada's Complaint

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Shiva and Zeus convene a focus group. “It wouldn’t work,” the panel votes. “Those leaf eaters would strip the trees and crops if we let them come back every year.” “That’s true,” Jehovah reasons. “Remember that plague of locusts I sent down?”

Where is Home?

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We are both 53 and this is the first time I’ve gotten past a third date with anyone from Match. Seth is different. I’m not sure why. My therapist said, “Well, maybe you’ll be good for each other. You both have to accept that you are recovering, or in reco

2 Haiku

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We’re heading to a Poetry reading when my wife Says “You owe me one” Coming back from the Poetry reading, my wife says “You owe me, big time”

From The Chronicles of His Demise

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I am not the wind./ I am a stone eroded by the wind

empty

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feeling empty as the bottom of a bottle dry as a bone in death valley alone

I fall out of love, learn not to worry, and get ready to embrace the foreign war...

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Love hurts... Really.