Most recent stories

Knowing

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She was a big woman, a massive, misshapen tree of a woman, wrapped in a rain-coat the size of a tent. She wore a cap on her head, its beak peeking out, drops of rain slipping of its edge like so many pieces of transparent candy.

ALL THE REPORTERS WANT WAR

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The countdown is on and daily the propaganda gets more and more aggravating It appears at times that the news media dictate and orchestrate more that just report on events of diplomatic shock. A huge effort has gone in to covering this coming war and it…

Four Stories I Cannot Write

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“Per­haps instead of a book I could write lists of words, in alpha­bet­ical order, an ava­lanche of isol­ated words which expresses the truth I still do not know” — Italo Calvino albu­men before child grit secretlyshame august blood …

Doreen - III

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Male genitals were usually portrayed diminutively in classical art. After forty minutes in a drafty room without cloths on, I was beginning to understand why.

Bubble Bath

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You wouldn’t believe an organ the size of a heart could scream like a nine-year-old sissy girl but mine did.

Kog Zadare, only living person...

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The poems and the Lies of Zog the Obscure It was said of old, shut the doors, close the windows; get into the spaceship and eschew mankind and every earth and like Neitszche put it "wipe away the horizon with a sponge".Negative 272°C (or Not Yet Absolute Order For These…

Publishing Today

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A cartoon of my personal insight to publishing as I know it.

Digging In The Darkness

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I dig with no light to guide the aim of my shovel but the stars peeking through the trees which are fuller now then when you went away.

The Great San Francisco Poetry Wars, 8

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I saw it all, in a flash. Holy shit! I thought. This is good. I have to sit down and begin writing. This is serious. Dead serious! I would rather be doing this than eating, or fucking, or anything. It was exhilarating. If I could only keep this up, who

The Exhibit

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She had written down Bailey’s new address even though she knew that he could not stay in the same place for more than six months.

London Fog

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I stumbled out of the Ten Bells pub, still a bit tipsy from the absinthe, but had a clear vision of what I wanted to have happen this night. The air was cold on my rosy cheeks, so I shielded my face…

Unknown to Me

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I don’t want to debate polemics while I’m sweaty and naked. I just want my hair cut.

Lastborn

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Being the baby in a family forces a focused outlook on life. Not necessarily profound, not even wry, but a perspective that pushes for two things - recognition, and to be in on whatever is going on.

On reading the “Lives of the Poets” by Michael Schmidt

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And now its done! Five months read! This book is batoning in my head. Its eleven o'clock AM and hot as hell, even the breeze, billowing nets through the sliding screen adds sweat, cuts me down to size. I will needs again to…

Breadfruit

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... we both know how we go to fresh air like fish, gasping.

Cold Feet

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“…And his smell. That Brett smell. It might become my smell…”

Lvoe

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like a hundred cracks of thunder / or my brain seizing up, going all floppy on me ...

Ferdinand Gets Married

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You have the right to be happy

A D O N I S

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They sprinkled me in the holes of Auburn Maine. They covered me in grain, and salmon colored sand. My shell had swirls of chartreuse, and chocolate painted on it. I was made from glass and Gods left eye. Picked and sorted through, we all landed into a tiny paper bag…

Talk To the Bionic Hand

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Talk To the Bionic Hand “Scientists have discovered how to program intention into a bionic hand so that it will react to impulses from the brain like a normal hand” Man found being choked by his own out-of-control bionic hand after han

Model T Ford

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It lies in rusting riot of shadowed days. Flying high its emblem wings, forever stalled.

SMASH AND GRAB!

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Blast! crashed through Shelter of car Violence! of blow! On window glass It winced! on Four wheels

you weren't this way

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i was in the fields, i was moss, was sticking my head in the columbine

Every time we kiss, my hair falls out

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I’m in high leather boots; I’m talking many dead cows here and I respect that

Greyhound

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I stare, out a dirty window, / into the sanitary blackness.

Easy to Show

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“3.9 million dollars,” she whispered to the window.

The Great San Francisco Poetry Wars, 7

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Warren Jeffries had called me on the phone the night before and said, “Listen to this,” as he held the receiver out his bedroom window at the noise coming from the riot on campus. They were spraying gas over People’s Park, trying to get them to disp

The Thing on Marlow Street

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After all, if she could get through World War II with no more than a couple of letters and numbers on her arm, she could, sure as hell, get through this.

Black Orchids

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I told him he was just paying for his sins. He gave me a look. "Why me?" he asked.

The Astigmatism Of The Human Genome Project

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G 20/200 …