Most recent stories

Bedtime Stories

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I want to read a story that ends unhappily ever after: one where the bad guy wins and no one gets the girl.

Routine

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She could live there forever, in that smokey memory...

Ya Sure You Betcha (A Syttende Mai Challenge)

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Nora never dated Scandinavians.

Dirty Mother For Ya, a response to Memphis Minnie, with a little help from Roosevelt Sykes and Blind Boy Fuller on Mothers Day

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Just stay at home woman, and do your job / wash those dishes, mama, its what I pays you for

From the Kitchen of my Childhood

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An ice block heart rushed home to the beat of its melt.

Clinch Park

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There was nothing on the lake but a / faint sailboat and a shadowy gull.

Razor Wire

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I flip up my hoodie, pull the string tight across my lips until it cuts into them, pull tighter, saw back and forth until blood warms the hairs on my chin.

Lower-order Mammals

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they'd turned into humans overnight

4Beers

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I would ask for your name/if your tongue wasn’t in my mouth.

Boys of Summer in Yonkers (Memoir Excerpt # 1)

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Boys of summer in Yonkers played stickball and baseball.

Exile

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Dandelions wither as I approach and the grass dies under my feet.

Half-and-Half

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Terry worked in a factory out in Northlake where she added a little squirt of milk and another little squirt of cream to those tiny half-and-half coffee creamers you find at every motel in the country. The owner of that factory hired only women to work

Her Own Age

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He had a country house, she said, but it was near the city. She said the house was about as old as he was and she loved it— from the wood-framed windows to the heavy wood doors... to the garden on the side of the house

Things I Should Have Done - #4

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I should have created a first-date questionnaire heartaches ago.

Battle at the Bodega

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Mr. Lowell knelt down and put his face in his hands, his knees quickly covered in blood. Sobs.

9/11 Memories

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She was just a small dog with a big heart.

Revenge poem for Sara, following her disparaging remarks about my unfamiliarity with the literary history of the East Coast

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In distant climes ’cross landlocked plains, where history digs still-shallow roots, From masonry a statue looms And in her arms gay pigeons roost.

The Blocked Toxin

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Listen to chickadees. Join / LinkedIn.

Bookends of a Life: II

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The clacking ventilator reminds me of ice cubes rattling in your highball...

The Fuddy-Duddy Writer Reflects on her Fan(s)

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The Fuddy-Duddy Writer does not do wit.

Kate

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It’s that laugh of hers that gets me...

A Little Piece of Meat

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I didn’t have toothpicks. You looked at me as if it summed up everything about me.

The Rite and Wrong of Passage

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My sadistic doctor was the only one laughing . Yes sir, I was officially, cordially, confirmed to meet that Irish/ Russian fellow…Colon Oscopy.

Snake, Rope

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The snake was fang-less and so had to choke her, making the kill bloodless and drawn out, just the way she liked it.

What She Thought It Was

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She refuses to let her eyes cry. Her eyes played tricks on her and showed her one thing was really another. They don't deserve to cry.

In the Pink Distance

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in the pink distance / a boy in a corduroy shirt / sits before an upended electrical spindle / and drinks a vodka gimlet

Secrets

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The one he liked best was a middle aged woman who didn't wear underwear. She had a terrific figure.

Curtains

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She wants her mother back and all I can give her is this—over and over. She doesn't want my mouth, wants no kissing anywhere even. Just this. Like this—quiet and rough. Quiet because her stepfather is napping in the bedroom next to…

Writing in the Dark

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and to adorn my hair I chose every kind of light

She Is My Nightmare

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her skin the color of honey sugary sweet eyes like long-forgotten pathways to a place I can only just recall her hair in twists and her hands touching it fondling it tucking it back behind her ears as she rubs her legs against each other crosses them at…