Most recent stories

Whose Music Is Written On the Sky

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You walked into the dream world That divides us from each other And removed your clothes And there was no specific language For orgasm there It was all multilingual They were white and fluffy like new clouds Like notes written on the bars

The Invitation

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The poet could not speak of himself but only of the gradations leading toward him and away. ~ Mark Strand

Towards the End of Memory

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This will be the century of infinite sadness,/ sadder even than the Twentieth/ with its expansive catalog of horrors.

The First Fifth

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The first time that Beethoven’s Fifth was played, people ran into the streets.

Arcana Magi Zero + Pure - c.4

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Everyone kept up with Nemo until the scent led them to the edge of the city. The elders sniffed the ground and found Satoshi’s scent into the stoned woods.

cross-quarter days

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sentinels in a frost-blackened field

Waiting to Disappear

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Phew! That was close.

Time Change in Florida #2

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Time Change in Florida #2 Sapped, yes. But not finished. Not yet.So what if I mostly live in my head?Who says I have to be out running aroundimproving body income outgo technical savvy? The dizzy awe of a Southwestern …

Driving the High Roads

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Here in this land of cannabis...

Alone

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It's not loneliness I'm afraid of. It's how I would be happy to be alone too much.

Hey Old Lady! Want To Buy A Reverse Mortgage?

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Facebook just hit me with an ad for coping with memory loss, probably because I just turned 63. As far as my favorite social media site is concerned, I am now an Old Lady. When I asked my Facebook pals who are also Seniors what kind of promotions have been turning up…

Over Fifty

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Yet it was another thing to grow to become indispensable to someone without whose infirmities the helper could not exist. People in general had started to call that helpless requiring “codependency,” but to Althea that word did no good,

Cornelius van Linjpleel's Contributions to the Study of Etruscan Tombs

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Cornelius van Linjpleel discovered and excavated for himself a lone Etruscan tomb not far from Populonia in 1898.

Boil

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Boil (n.)––1. Pus-filled pustule inflammation of the skin, usually painful. 2. Slang boiled pus, bucket of (n. phrase)“Your asshole brain is a bucket of boiled pus.” (see also pus, SCOTTISH derogatory term for face.

Tell Me Where the Cows Are

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Pholcidae...Daddy Long-Legs

A Ruckus Needs To Be Raised, or Caused, or Raised

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Either a ruckus needs to be raised Or a ruckus needs to be caused I began chewing the locks of love Off the fences and the gates I was so outraged At the horrible academic trash If they had found me doing this They would have hauled me a

Perilous Joy

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...bush tail beside him his closest comfort next to the genes...

Juggling

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Life is meagre with me; I am unsatisfied and left always begging for __________.

Shaken not stirred

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The warmth of the sun

War Garden

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From the home front....

A Vignette on Fathers

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On 3rd when you looked at your 389th happy New Year greeting, you autotyped “same to you”. No one on whatsapp knew. At week 17 of IVF therapy when you and your new bride could do no more; doctor Mehdi said neither could he. At 5 minutes left, you mi

Sold Out Shade

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We begged him to sell us some shade. Just enough for half an hour, until our bus would pick us up and drive us to our next destination, continuing what was turning out to be a purgatory tour of forgotten Mediterranean towns.

Arcana Magi Zero + Pure - c.3

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They followed the crow up a hill, where lights were at its brightest below. The teens stood frozen in time.

Within You and Without You

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The cloudless sky/ amplifies the incompletion,/ clarifies the imperfections/ of the night’s normalcy-

Herd

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We may think about so many things and thoughts about rain. We may think about where it is going, where it comes from.

The Toilers

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In the black not dead of night, she gathers them; slowly,diligently placing the cansand bottles into two large plasticbags strung across a long piece of wood; this is her money work. She is small, but her bodyhas the choreography down:sift, search, lift,…

marc bolan

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marc bolan mind rolling

The Bedbugs

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Cockroaches in bed was the last straw. Alicia was sure she’d swallowed one in the middle of the night . . .

An Extremely Complex Fall Evening

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Soon the entire sky load of constellations was carried across the bumpy fields

Painting with Big Mama

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I still see Big Mama leaning over her garden to pick a zinnia to put in her still life. Her old pink slip, hanging diagonally a foot under her hiked up, ragged, stained dress, half covered by her paint smock, which matched her white, faux fur, bedroom sli