Most recent stories

Truths of Matters

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            “Is truth real?”—what a time for such a question to emerge! Such an elementary question, too, a pity no one was asking it two days ago.

Catullus poems 16 and 97 (translations mine - adult content)

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Catullus 16 I will fuck you up the ass and then the mouth, Furius the catamite, and pederast Aurelius: you both who think, because my poems are salty, that I possess your equal lack of shame: for it's proper for a poet to be moral, no way essential for it…

New Story In PANK

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The gecko instinctively knew that if he moved, he was dead.

The Mission of Dimitri Kastratitov

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A nuclear-plant fuel rod engineer, Dimitri Kastrotov, had an axe to grind, so invented an atomic deterrent, to counterbalance mankind. He targeted the filthy rich, greedy sons of a bitch, breeding war, weapons and nukes at a reckless fever pitch After …

3 short poems (2)

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Clear as my conscience may be, you still haunt me as the brown settles to black sit there and recommence as if nothing had ever happened, your hands conducting the orchestra of your purity.

No Good Hubcaps - song

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I got no good hubcaps My van is up on bricks It's held together with duct tape And a couple of crummy sticks I caught the guy who did this And tied him to a tree I kicked him in the windpipe And kicked him in the knee I'm a man witho

Redneck Haiku

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some local color Haiku

This Is

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Have you ever spent twilight in a old pasture?

Something Going Down, Like a Branch Snapped by Wind

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This is 57% of middle America, I'm convinced: doomed.

In search of reification

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For want of a word...

Awaiting the End of Time

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The alphabets will disappear.

Six Feet Over

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I’ve paid my dues in this dimension/ so show me where the rest of them are

Sleeping late in Cahuita, Costa Rica

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The light of day is screaming, shook by the calls of howler monkeys, their low roar hanging in the salt, in the black sand riding the wind, as Playa Negra outstretches its infinite arms.

My Future Husband

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My future husband is wondering why I'm "taking your crap" when I'm excellent at standing up to his. He's cooking dinner in the stylish two story home he owns and wishing he had someone to share it with, a blue eyed blonde, but only if she's me.

We Never Left

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Above our bellies we are beautiful women with luscious breasts. Where there is skin, believe me, it is flawless, irresistible. Most of us have long hair, but there are some among us who keep their heads close cropped for aerodynamic…

Where is Vincent Price when you need him?

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Grunion Fishing

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As spilled on a sandy Corona del Mar beach/both in moonlight and starlight so lovely/and strangely sad as if receding still

Amy-Loyd Plax

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When I no longer know you, what signal will you give to remind me that you and I once loved?

Happy Columbus Day

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Oh to be young and vigorous.

Blind Jack

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The blind can be a little bit Angry now and then Trying to be independent They don’t want or need your help Usually. They’re a little like bees You have to learn to leave them alone But I remember one day when I Guided the fingers of Bli

Silver & Suds

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my hands splash in to silver and suds in attempts to rinse blues caked in grease away for a while

Dropped stones, skimmed skin

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Skim. The stone slipped across the top of the water. The sea was a battleship grey with a liver of cerulean, foaming at the lips its puckered kisses smacking on the shore.

Suicide Machines

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["Mea Culpa" means: I don't care what you think, sorry is when I feel like making you hear me say it.]

September 26, 2016

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whatever weaknesses you displayed// as empathetic human fellow traveler,/ your command of English survives you,// on into the last echoes of the human/ once we’re gone.

On and On

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The world is crazy that way— two people close to me gone around the same time and I'm supposed to go on and on like those dryers and smile still and do my schoolin' still ...

Complex

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He sees the dogs through the window, his babies, sleeping on opposite ends of the couch. His girl, lying supine, hind legs spread, grotesquely, almost comically, as far as they can without being flush with the cushion. His boy, Cosmo, face down, the power…

Mindspeak

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crave

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The look that warms.

Showtime

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Showtime on Broadway.

Ghost Questions

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What if I never feel like a real artist? What does it even mean to be a "real" artist? What if nobody ever cares about what I make?