Most recent stories

Bubbles

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It’s about 4:30 when the phone rings. I look at the display and see it’s home. “Hey,” I say picking up. “I hate you,” says Jules. “I hate, you, too,” I say. My co-workers don’t even blink. They’ve heard this before.

The Egg Whisk

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A plain oval face, opaque except for a birthmark streaking the right cheek like chicken shit.

The Urine Pearls

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“No, dad, I've never seen urine colored pearls.”

For Rent: 116 Writers Block Avenue

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There's a special block in the city, nestled between Mutant Town and Trump Towers.

Swimming with Bow Legged Women

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Sometimes, when possessed by a craving for an ornate day my very thinking becomes florid, cursive, prone to rolling my vowels – dotting my little I’s with a love heart, like an idiot who rows out in a storm.

4 o' clock

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I still walk into galleries. A shadow of my old self still walks into galleries. That old self was hungry to be wounded by the juxtaposition of color and form and texture and line and darkness and light. But I can no longer see art. I can…

another night, another dream

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She can tell you seven things she doesn’t love about her face.

That's Grace Too

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I read the ending to her and it was clear to her--clear as it could only be to a woman, to a woman you're in love with--that I had been describing her.

Tiffany's Economy

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The world waited with bated breath as Tiffany stood in the grocery store aisle that housed the various kinds of fruit spreads for sandwiches and toast. She tapped her toe and nodded her head this way and that while she compared the qualities of two jars of…

Lentil Soup

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"You're my husband, for chrissake!"

(Like a Pop Song) This is the Head of a Sunflower

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This is the head of a sunflower as well as the butt of a beetle as well as the membrane with its busy veins of traffic between sky and cloud as well as the upside down skeleton of a raindrop as well as the groove twisting in a line around your sweet kissable…

With Ariel in Their Hands

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Sylvia Plath killed herself while her children slept upstairs, breakfast ready at their doors. Anne Sexton wanted to do it, but Sylvia got there first, making Anne just a little less remarkable, although she tried often enough, her death like a song put on repeat. …

Call to Action

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Everybody wake up and hold to those dreams you had of greatness and prosperity. Bring forth the hopes you had as a child of progressing to that ultimate goal of self-sufficiency. You are prepared for what lies ahead, the future belongs to us. Our finest…

stoplight - (haiku love series - #2)

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stoplight - (haiku love series - #2) eyes lock in a gaze glimpses of my future spark then you walk away

Cheat Sheets

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I decided to cheat on my husband the day the washing machine broke. It was Darrell's fault, anyway. If he hadn't tried to wash the dog in the Maytag, none of this would've happened. It just goes to show that a man who forsakes the normal use of a househol

Wrapping Kevin

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Wrapping Kevin It was his last…

Desire

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She said “I have to go”, he answered with his eyes “Don't” and they stepped closer to each other in the kitchen, a step on the tiled floor, the remnants of their tea cold on the counter top.

update

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Last time I heard from you, you had been smoking crack with a hooker in the doorway of city hall

Scents

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"Ah, finally the rain stopped pouring!" She opens the window to let the sticky air out of the house. The colours outside have changed. The air is clear and the sky turns into light pink while the sun is drowning at the horizon. She takes a deep breath. The…

little incidence - (haiku love series - #1)

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you choose to be mine when you take hold of my hand - silently, i'm yours

I Hear You & Other Stories

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All the attractive women in the building had secrets. He wanted to know their secrets, but they wouldn't say.

See?

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Arise, ye masses, arise!

Coffee and Cream F**k the Shit out of Me

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Of course they (the cof­fee and cream) were lovers, chem­i­cally made for one another, warmly explor­ing their part­ner's par­ti­cles with the pas­sion of a first kiss.

The Apaches Are Losing Brooklyn

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At the bar, she told me her name was Natasha, but she doesn’t look like one. She’s too thin and flighty for one thing. And all Natashas have a Russian accent and talk of the Motherland as if it were never cold and before it turned to borderlines and j

One More Good Hand

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It's been like that of late. One bad beat after another. I used to hold all the cards, kick some ass, be rolling in it and buying the Crystal at Birdland for all my special ladies. Now I can't get in without a steep cover and my markers are no good in the

I Am In Frequent Contact With You-Know-Who

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"I am in frequent contact with you know who, and am able, most of the time, to surreptitiously send messages all day long every day, whenever I am inspired."

Visitation Hour

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She watches too much VH1 for a five-year-old.

A memory of worms

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Seph loved to scare her mother in the garden by picking up a worm with the tines of her gardening fork and chasing her with it, the dirty-pink body twisting on the end. Dee would scream a little, always eyes on the worm, and run slowly, as if…

Obituary for a Poet Heretic

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He sat on a leather couch in the nude, blew smoke rings shaped like wild animals and picked verses out of the thick air.

Traveling North

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TRAVELING NORTH Though you are dead now. Though I walk covered in dust through this strip mall in Iowa. I remember the collection of tendencies that led me here. The flat landscape. The blazing heat of cornfields. The landscape and body are one…