Most recent stories

You'll Have To Come Out Because I Won't Let You In

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the pollen of your kisses and the shouts of your love shaking the sky

Boom

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It was as if a car bomb went off in Beaver Cleaverville.

Everybody Was a Virgin Once

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Most women simply don’t want damaged goods. That’s a fact I’ve been brought face to face with throughout my life. It's something you can continue crushing your brains against, like an impossibly high hurdle. At first you take the damage without unde

Dreams-in-progress

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A team of reggae journalists played and an unknown man came after work for me in a kilt.

Wilbur

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This girl who looks about ten years old and her Pomeranian puppy are staring at my left arm and my right hand keeps filling out the form and I know I shouldn't but I say what she's been begging me to for the last half hour: It wasn't Wilbur. It was a woman. A girl,…

Ibby's Falafel

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Dark hung over the night like an occupation force. Across the street a Cuban diner fought it off with green and yellow neon lights, Latin rhythm beating through the air.

Zom Prom Mom

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We fucked in the backseat like the verse of a b-side, and that was enough to make him think my boys were half of his body.

Quiet (from Grand Street literary journal)

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I know it’s nobody’s fault, and that one thing had nothing to do with the other, because it was this way for me since I was born; they just didn’t figure it out for a while that with one of my ears I could hardly hear, and with the other, I couldn

Real Estate

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He drove down there in his truck the second time. Didn't want to get anywhere near that snooty car of hers.

Pi in the Sky

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The possibility for numerous outcomes – the possibility of anything, really – lives on the writer’s page.

Arcana Magi - c.13: Along the Way

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The Sentinels flew low and through the woods. Carefully navigating their way around the trees, they heard the sound of birds chirping and frogs croaking in the morning.

Hummingbird hearts in a breadbox

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We married in the ruins of a pachinko hall, the tiny bones in the pocket of your tracksuit luring a pack of wild dogs out from the underpass.

SOMETIMES

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Sue Ellen walked on. “You were thinking about me -- I saw you.”

The Demon Rum

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the Coke made his butt leak blood

The Backseat

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I always sat in the backseat of the Dodge when my Dad drove, never in the front seat beside him. It was safer there when he ran over the dogs that wandered onto the road.

Balm (excerpt)

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my second language / to silence / plainsong of / the breast

The Heart Jar

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The diner on the corner is one of those Disneyfied modern cut-outs trying to mimic the actual thing but failing utterly. The street, a vein of hipness running through an Ivy League campus that is still trying to cling to a time when it all meant something

Reading at the Anatomy Museum

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If you know how, all bodies can be read like books, like poems, like scraps of song

Abandonment

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The ideas just came to them. "Nothing On" consisted of a television on a small stand, playing an endless loop of "Jersey Shore." "Shopping Bores Me" was a men's flannel shirt from American Apparel on an otherwise empty rack.

Albert Walks

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Albert Walks When Albert walks he is astonished. Ripe fruit falls to the ground at his feet, offering itself. The earth's tremor rumbles, celebratory, through his mended shoes and up his shins. The birds darting through the sky above …

Anniversary Dinner at Denny's

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A mile down the road, they found Denny’s. It was only four in the afternoon so there was no wait and the couple sat right away.

Lobster's Alive

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Oh, no! the lobster’s still alive staring out at us from the freezer at the fish shop sitting on top of the other dead fish and ice its large claws taped shut with orange rubber bands one eye stalk moving occasionally wonde

Love, Story

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I don’t read fiction he said dismissively and it was such a profoundly ridiculous denial of something so essential like saying I don't breathe air or I don’t make love or I don’t like music for fuck’s sake that all I could think to say in response

Golgotha

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They were starting to get winded. The boy, his father and his little brother were hiking up a hill, cutting a diagonal path through hay-colored grass towards an outcrop of craggy boulders below the hill's summit.

Black Widow

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Hair as black as a Raven’s wing. Dark eyes. You wore a black dress, too, my favorite color.

Blame It on The Good Stuff

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That was nearly two years and a thousand smiles ago.

Gastronomy

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your olive-pitting thumbs

Waiting for a Terrorist

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Tents staked in desert land, a muted building of parched earth, in a thirty year old city with a napalm birth, they wait among gravestones in the sand.

Control

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The eater's pose extending the fork in hand toward the bowl wherein the appetizer lay readied. Salad, carefully configured for its purposes mixing vitality with pleasure which should not be differentiated, don't you agree? Colors selected for their…

Shedding the Skin of Past Lives

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I bow my head and shed the antlers of past lives I no longer butt heads with the universe but I miss my curse and can’t do worse I throw myself in reverse and rehearse the early scenes of science and my full meat diet that sent