Most recent stories

The Ritz

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After oh so many hours the eyes could only close only to view a Ritz cracker marching on a nose

Suite

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but most times/ it’s just improvisation// with phrases of unknown origin/ swirling in my head

Arcana Magi Zero + Pure - c.13

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Street by street, non-combatants ran away. Each one passed by the Society and law enforcement screaming.

Flesh and Stone

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Someone in a slippery raincoat walks by with rubber boots friction and suction sounds. It's raining: a heavy, vigorous, insistent rain. The willows across the road are kneeling in ocher mud. On the tall eucalyptus, the kookaburra preens and realigns its feathers. Mia gauges…

days of rational belief and mythical thought

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medieval the new:/days of rational belief/and mythical thought.

As the Wine Keeps Flowing

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My blood has turned to flour I've been in Babylon too long My heart was singed by fire But it's drowning in my song We raised a prayer to Mary We had to take our share We took our places in the ferry But we didn't pay the fare And we don't know…

Liturgy of the Hours

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Sometimes late at night my dead sister visits and it is always the same, where the forest runs down to the sea

Picnic Jugs

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The car was a two-tone black and white Chevy...

I Had a Dream

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I was born into a perpendicular world I held Vertigo in my arms once And gave her a good squeeze That she just couldn’t get out of her head Then she would follow me around the perimeter Where my breath was being held Against my will Ah,

Barnyard 1961

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The boy heard loud barks and squeals, climbed on a chair, and looked out the window at the barnyard and the faded blood red barn.

Augustine

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You stretch my heart / in sacred ways

Bois de Boulogne

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the wicked and the hush'd

The Haunting

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the ugliness will not be denied

the note read

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Orchids, and irises. Tulips, and a sunflower too.

Arrivals and Departures

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A flash in chapters

Silent Valley

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“Silent Valley: The quietest place in the Western Hemisphere.” Jerry pulls back the throttle and squints so the wrinkles deepen around his eye and creep out past the frame of his sunglasses. Even through my headphones I can…

Mirrors/srorriM

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It's weird to be here. I wonder if you are here too. You'd probably say oh that was years ago. And you would be right. But I like the things we believed in then. Some of them I still do. You're old I guess. You were so pretty and golden in your…

New Kid

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Wild are the woods tucked in the backyards, tame the front lawns of green, manicured, with a hedge and a few flowers, a well-maintained driveway, and a garage door.

Baked Beans

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mundane tradition

The Tea Tin

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It occurred last night. Today, in plaster and bandages, Mrs James lies still. Only her eyes and mouth move. She mumbles, whispers, about premonition. If she believed regrets were of any help to her now, she would deplore having set foot outside her door. She would deplore…

Illustrated Comments on the Apophatapataphysical Metrics of Cosmic Humor

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(the vast preponderance of dark matter and dark energy discernible in these latter days begins to suggest just how dark the humor of existence is) . . .

Disposable Pleasures

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when I take the time/now to remember/ you have become/a thousand page/memory book

In Real Time

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We are the same shits/ we were in the Bronze Age

How To Love Like a Raven Loves

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ravens

Giant Lobster Hands

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He sure can play piano With those giant lobster hands In his ratty raccoon coat And his old black cowboy hat They really do express What’s been hidden deep Inside his heart and limbs That makes every woman weep His boots of Spanish lea

Playlist

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I made you a playlist

Waves

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“still watersrun deep” is not my portionborn to make waves Formed from the ocean

The Storyteller

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for this earth is not a destiny of silence

Maternal Possession

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At this point, the ashtray is piled to the brim with fags smoked clean down to the filter, some even one drag beyond, into rancid, chemical after burn, a taste erased only by sparking a freshie. So, freshies are sparked, one after another. Things are not going well.…

The Paris American

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He returned to America on the Fourth of July. Twisting in his cramped window seat miles above the Atlantic, he buckled up before the descent. “You can handle this,” he muttered. Hungover, still reeling from the dreamy head-turning experience of…