Most recent stories

Galactic Butterflies

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will we become artifacts?

Composition: 3 generations and a porch

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It is 1939...

Frozen

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The early morning temperature was a typo

Why We're Going to Eat Uncle John's Suicide for Breakfast, Tomorrow

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[Party!]

Pork Rinds

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Johnny Rocket is on the I-pad, sad, He says, “Game on, King me, the Queen” Always "it", he eats pork rinds like mad, “King him again” high on amphetamine.In his sleep, ants come up from the floor board to eat french fries, cola, their aorta…

To a Bright Pair of Green Eyes

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The sad march goes ever on. It stretches endlessly over an eternity of painful hills, as unnatural as lumps under the skin, into the deserted broken down streets, the forgotten unprotected alleyways, always adding more and more lost children to…

Political Poem

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As if to ask if I'm okay, as if to ask aren't we the same two on this wet December morning as ever, as yesterday, a month ago even, she shoots me a look as I stand by the bed, then her sane mild brown eyes…

NEWS

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Truman sits in his car on an early Tuesday morning. He rolls down both front windows down, but despite the infusion of fresh air, the car still smells of stale meat and sickness.

bienvenue (a poem)

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if you lost your list on your way here i will help you get what you came for.

disparate haiku (mostly)

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faith in gravity/permitted them to extol/the guillotine's blade.

The Sickness of your Genius

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This is not about you Although you are stone cold and sexy

Like There Was No Tomorrow

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And there on the street Were a bunch of frantic pigeons Picking over some discarded Chicken bones I mean they were really Going to town on them You know, frantic Like there was no tomorrow And then I saw it A real sign of progress

Resurrecting Jonah

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"Baby, he turned gray and dead before he hit the floor".

Late Night / Early Morning

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It's 2am. The wind is moving at speed, whipping gently the tree branches, and their leaves rustle simultaneously to create a audible sound, like hands flipping through sheets of paper, or that feeling you get on your fingertips when going across a textured surface. I'm…

Generation Blues

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A Satire We are the Social Justice soldiers, we parrot platitudes and lies, And expect you all to worship the same things we idolise. We ignore Islamic extremism and domestic terrorism too, Because we are Cultural Relativists whose brains are up our…

Rain Song

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Feelin’, feelin’ good, down-fallin’ down/rain, rain, rain came today,/wet alfresco alchemy

December 1, 2016

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Polite society will cheer/ as another body is discovered// and disposed of. The cheers/ will drown out the gasps

Breaking Point

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I can do the hot coals, no problem. Or, your love, eyes closed. Or your sneer, spank, suffering, resentment, rejection.

Our Own

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The world is upon us. The only thing that matters Now is if you are willing to be seen by them. Many moths Will be hidden by simply gathering on the bark Of the one tree, but this will not sustain you if you Do not also have the courage…

$5 K a Day

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We are all in big trouble. Here's some fiction to let your soul experience the beast.

Mike

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“Hi, I'm Mike, and I don't wanna work ... Wanna play foos?”

The Discovery of Infinity

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Infinity occurs as an afterthought, for discoverers like Columbus as for countries like America.

2

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Then I am in Washington DC impersonating an accountant.

Man In The Blue Scooter

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bloodletting and the strobe of hearts

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the injured color wheel of the world

After the Poison

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I've measured out our time togethersealed it in airtight bottlesthe one labeled 1998 kept closelike smelling saltsOne whiff a camphor waking memaking me high on the idea of usputting blinders on your infidelitiesdouble vodkas and damaging wordsAnd when that isn't enoughI…

The Abandoned Shoe Project

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It’s the unfinished sentences Of the children on our refrigerators That worry me the most It’s the Fake News It’s all the people Living in their shopping carts Without shoes It’s the abandoned shoe On the street And the Abandoned S

Breath for Nick Cage

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But El Roy Never listen no so

November Odds

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The stars align against us. Lines of force/ collaborate to push us off the edge/ into the dark abyss we’ve joked about.

Notel Nobel

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That was before Cohen died. Castro died. Castro Died should be a title by Samuel Beckett. Once I nearly went out to buy a bass clarinet just for the purpose of playing along with Leonard Cohen.