The White House released only a short-form pedigree certificate, which “breeders” claim bears signs of alteration. “The ‘K’ in the middle of ‘AKC’ is longer than the other letters, like an El Greco on an acid trip.”

“Really? And you write…?” asked her breasts in the black dress, making excellent eye contact. He smiled at them.

"...just like you rehearsed..."

It was already 3:30 PM. Where had all the time gone? Linda looked up from her computer monitor over at Carlos, who had his face intently pointed at his. "We have to go soon," she said. "We want to avoid rush hour traffic.""Where did we put the address?" Carlos answered, not…

It’s the audacious testicle dancing in its theater, isn’t it? Carrying the legendary names. The bad blood, the jealousy the heart retains, living again under its skin, rarely enlivened by one of its own. There was enough angel in you that we would g

A tiny bear emerged from the cave of his mouth, grabbed the hair and pulled it on his lap to play with it.

The other night at work, some kid was in for swallowing a snail's shell. He was nine and, according to the computer, did not have cognitive insufficiency. That last bit was probably put there to make us all not feel guilty about laughing at him.

I was raised in a big city in the slow South. I know a little about cross cultural dining and where Delta Blues collides with Sly Stone, Al Green, and Zeppelin. Dirty rice in the Dirty South. Fried chicken, collards, and pintos. Fried velveeta…

There is nothing literal about the color of strawberries. It is a beauty too celestial for this world. It can only be imagined.

I've been invited to speak at Emerson College in Boston—it will be the summer of 2012, and I'll be speaking on running an online literary magazine; in this case, my own, Anderbo.com.

Here and there a few bits of beauty, with the highest respect, reverence, erect with pride. Almost twice a thousand dawns, ten thousand in intimacy, the breasts, the nipples, means of the world to nourish itself, by the intimate bay. It's almost pun

The bird studies me, we lock stares, with no care for who blinks first, birds don’t do macho stand-off.

time. Night after night he's up, restless. What if she knew his plans? If only he'd bypass his miscalculations and slip through

I found the knife in a fishing box in the closet. The box was made out of varnished wood. My father’s father had made it.

Some time ago, I began to write you letters with the idea of helping your newspaper become a more complete map of our little shared world.