Most recent stories

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.

So, What Happened?

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the bay was littered with corpses

why are we feeding the lawyer?

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They were press­ing her about the money, it was always about the money.

Nemesis

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Kids said the boiler room was haunted. I don’t know if it was true then but it sure is now.

Lovelies on the Beach

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He doesn’t intend to lie after this. For now, he just wants to take in the sea and the quiet.

Sing

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"From up here the city lights burn like a thousand miles of fire," he croaked, his voice scratchy from sobbing. In pinpoints of illumination he imagined his wife - *former* wife - Calli in that Mustang convertible he'd gotten her for a birthday surprise

My Worst Nightmare

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Gerontophile: An Imposition

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His shirt, striped, fuzzy, is of fabric like velour and wreaks havoc with sunlight. His seat faces the aisle, I am sitting forward-faced across the aisle, we are on a half-full city bus, this afternoon.It is a funny shirt so I smile. I am not smiling because of…

MOTHS

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I didn't care for parties when Jackie was alive and I donot like them now. Deborah, our daughter,…

Arcana Magi - c.19: Opportunity Arising

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Kyo held her hand gently and stared at the bracelet as Brie explained everything that happened. It was painful to hear.

We Are Not Just A Bit of Irrelevant Pollution

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"It's hard to make a man understand something if his livelihood depends on him not understanding it."--Upton Sinclair I understand what Zappa was saying,about broken hearts and assholes, but, well, reallywhat if yours is already broken and already…

THAT KIND OF LOVE

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I've heard of sucessful marriages where there's very little sex. My heart aches for that kind of love.

Myra's Cigarettes

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I know from the experience of too many odd sideways glances that folks are seldom interested in my brand of observation. No one else seems to wonder how many commas there are in the library or how many other people own that exact shirt.

Baby Catalogue

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my mouth is open, ready to bite your tiny toes

The Mating Habits of College Girls

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Jeremy and I are in bed tangled in the sheets, my head on his chest, and he’s playing with my hair, stroking it the way I like. He’s breathing heavy, my arm wrapped around his torso, and I’m smelling him and he smells sweet like he always does. Th

Guramachimachi

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The carnival passed through this hotel one time only, its boarded guests pretending to ignore the smell of outdoor whore in their bedding.

The Sticking Point

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I felt dark, dark...

Lanyards

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theme songs for concentration camps!?

Me. You. Love.

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In my own case, before Ellen, of course there was someone else. She—well, she was someone who I felt as if I’d always known and always would. And I think she felt the same about me.

HIT AND RUN

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HE DREAMED THAT NIGHT OF A SMALL BLACK CHILD LYING INJURED IN THE STREET, UNABLE TO CRY OUT

Poet Found Living Near Berkeley!

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Reports have been spreading fast that an actual living poet has been found right outside the borders of Berkeley Rumors grew into a wildfire of speculation Saturday night when one of them a tall graying older specimen more or less in the