Most recent stories

The 2nd poem.

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You came to me In the self made calm Causing quite a storm You want me to rejoice and relax? Not knowing my fears Shall we ever fly?

Chip's Bar

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Bill texted me at 3:44, invited me to join him at Chip's, where he was having a drink. Chip's Bar is a great dive, and I accepted without hesitation. Ten minutes later I was on a crowded bus filled mostly with fat people, and twenty minutes after that I was…

Minerva Gets Pierced by Love

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Minerva one night had a change of plans, for Mr. Wright knocked on her door in the form of a potbellied perv with a Vaseline mustache.

Untitled Haiku from Japanese Game Show by JANEY SMITH

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It's a haiku. It's its own snippet.

getting there

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Seems hot for a Thursday, doesn’t it?

The Gift of the 12th Congressional District of Michigan

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Other men looked up and, rather than feeling pleasantly surprised at the sudden sound of ethereal metal crickets in their presence, left the restroom after hastily finishing their silent shaking. Mitch joined them, feeling like a coward for being afraid o

Universal Theory #1: The 3-Step Secret to a Good Life

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1. Think up problems that don’t exist 2. Realize, suddenly, that they don’t exist 3. Elation

Under Perfect Conditions...

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If when he pulled his lips from mine he didn’t say a word, and if he didn’t try to explain or try to win me with bullshit...

Scenario

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She was nice. From the first sight, I already knew that. Someone will easily recognize her eyes. Her eyes are playful. I like game. “If you'd been told that you would die tomorrow, how'd you do?” She asked. I had no…

Study in Contrast

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But tonight while your finger glides across the glossy pages of Popular Science I hold a séance for the Holy Spirit in utter seriousness among the book clutter and crumpled manifestos in the basement

Josephine Skinny Jeans: Chapter 2

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Sometimes I have really violent dreams where I smash Libby’s face in with a liquor bottle, a brick, a mounted boar’s head... really whatever my brain makes available to me. I always wake up satisfied.

Book Killer

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Sometimes after bookbinding for a few hours at the hand-sewing table, Jillie would, after scraping her knife too roughly over the glue of an old book's spine, feel not like a resurrector of literature, as she should, but a killer. Not a calculating or

THE CAPTION CHANGES BUT THE PICTURE STAYS THE SAME

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When he leaves herThe weather is glorious of courseUnblinking sunshineHe walks awayShe touches the edge of his sleeve I touch his sleeveBlack jacket flung over his shoulder Black jacket over his…

Truman Compote

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When it rains, I can really think.

My Brother Outside a Cantina at Night, Mexico

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in his thin, swanky black leather jacket out on the town at night in Mexico with his girlfriend

Myra's Middle Name

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Maybe our whole generation is going to hell, but I’m not getting any younger or better looking. Life’s too short for the missionary position.

I know ...

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But here it was, Friday afternoon with Deborah checking MySpace for interesting bulletins or messages before she made some weekend plans, finding a blog from Fred posted that same morning with two simple sentences. "I know. I've known for a long time.

All the Pretty Boys

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Somewhere along the line he had also become a junkie, so he had a plastic bottle filled with methadone. I took a swig of that as we decided to jump in a cab and go to a dance club. It was a total shit-hole...

Falling

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She lets the book drop through her fingers to the floor and stares straight ahead watching the red lights streak by in the darkness. The train rocks her away from the seat and back; she rolls her spine along the plastic to absorb the motion, taking it away from…

Red Hot Hyperbole

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She came from the land of rumpled sheets. She was the very definition of sex. She was the breeze through the wind chimes of his heart. One might say that she actually invented the orgasm. All mirages are this way. Perfect until they disappear. They

The House Flounder

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Spackle. Spackle is always the answer.

Anselm Kiefer Painting, 1

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The damaged sky is not more black than your hair, Ashen tonight and floating over the land in blackened Smoke, where the furrows run with milk light Or snow, blue and white, and the world-ash floats. Your patient body sleeps and the white pain

The First poem.

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Then you stopped abrupt.

12:00 Somewhere

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"Time really flies.” “I thought that was only when you were having fun,” he said. “Don’t be an asshole.”

Day's Heat and Mistaken Winters

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Elizabeth stood outside my door one afternoon. I greeted her from across the studio, put on some water to boil and walked to the door. I took her hand, held it to my cheek, and led her to my dining room table.

“What will I do if I run out of stories,” she asked?

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You better not come home drunk, you shithead, or you'll be sleeping in the yard!

Five

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". . . with the impact of a 18-wheeler jack-knifed into a Mini-Cooper as it hits the surface."

Missed Connection

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You said it looked like I could use some dietary counseling and rolled your eyes. I was too tired to be a smart-ass and just smirked. If you'd like to offer advice in person, reply here.

DING!

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He tapped his foot, swished his hips, swaying across the worn tile floor with an invisible partner in his arms, the batter-coated spoon still clutched in his right hand, momentarily forgotten. Nearly a decade had passed since he last shared a dance with h

Lovers on the Lawn

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One day, every girl I’ve ever slept with showed up on my lawn.