Most recent stories

A Brief History of Water

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amphibians returning to the scene of the crime

The visitors

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I am a small cottage up on the hill. Every morning, I open my windows and my front door. First enters dawn which turns the walls blue, followed by the sun laying straws of wheat on my table. Inside my cottage the day lights up the dark corners while the lamps go quietly…

MIG Arrangement

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I do not think it good that you, any of you, know what I mean when I say “MIG arrangement.”

Revisionist History

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A break from bleak world history and events...

Breakdown Lane

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I'm on my way to work the Saturday night dinner shift at Slug's

passing in, passing out

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I hate turnstiles and revolving doors

Inexperienced MIKE!

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#bitch -- #bitchedybitchedyBITCHBITCHBITCH ;)

a conundrum

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Before today, nobody's called me honey since 1982 when I was arriving from a job interview and as I was getting out a yellow taxi in Anchorage, the landlord, a lady in her fifties with her hair up in a bun and native to the Midwest came to greet me and as she helped me out…

Slivers from the edge

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Four ships anchor Far off shore Chains slip Beneath the swell.

New Moon, Old Moon

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The moon once rose on its own Now it takes a series of Ropes and pulleys to get it up Because it’s so old And you can hear these audible groans Coming from its craters As it’s forced to listen to forgotten lovers Obsessing over old lov

April 1, 2020

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So I had a reading for the Library of Congress and I cried during the whole thing because my mother didn't have a funeral or a service since she died on April 1, 2020. Now that day is the day my mother died instead of April fools. In Spanish it is the Day of the…

Twentieth Century Chats, in Six Acts

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M. CALLAGHAN: I’ve got a lot on my mind. You’re drunk, aren’t you? COL. MORD: Good idea! DEATH: Well, there is no shame in that. J. KIDDING: Everyone suffers. Can you lend me your cat? T. BURKULAR: I don’t know, sir. I don’t follow political issues .


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Is that who we are as a nation, or was that day an aberration?

The ghost of who I used to be.

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I was never a gypsy.We came grounded with a purpose.The sun set the same as where we came from.And from there we moved and moved neverfinding a place to really call our own althoughwe turned Miami into a foreign country wherethe first language is and always will be…

Colors of the Last Bright Morning

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I am a housekeeper at a private women's college in upstate New York.

Quick Dissolve Mel-atonement!

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"Find the part where you need closure." said She.


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When we were young and small we played in the orchard. Mom made apple pies and fried apples, caramel apples and apple sauce, apple cider. Grandma’s apple butter recipe.

John Nixon Cummin' in Matt Hogue.

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[FARCICAL STATUS ... Keep going to Ladd's, you fucking losers! #talesofatwentyFOURyearoldNOTHING]

Cleft-Split Rock

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Walking here with you on these narrow strands

When I was little

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I was little, very little, when Happiness went away. I moved the entire earth, walked in the ferns, poked in the river. Happiness had disappeared. I looked to the sky. I remember, the sun had the porous face of an orange. Not unlike my skin. My eyes fixed above, I saw it…

Lingering Over Language

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The mornings he comes in

Lost Keys

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The most unoriginal, trite and hackneyed story ever written!

The Song Left in Me

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The sky’s on fire with existence When I’m around you Your wandering kisses enter my soul But your quiet beauty may be What really carries you It is like Finding and touching the Pearl of existence To be near you Was that your tattoo

There Were Giants In Those Days, and the Wickedness of Men

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We laugh at them, parading two-by-two, the elephants rolling tail to trunk across the makeshift gangplank, wide slats flexing under their sway. A pair of snakes contemplates gulping a pair of frogs and their clandestine movements stun a cricket and his mate. Birds squat…


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At fifteen...


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The year begins well here with much needed rain and tee-shirt temperatures.

Yeopim Pork Men

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The trio stuffed their grilling equipment in a battered van and left for Dixieland Speedway at 4:30 am.


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Much reincarnation


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My grief is made up of Demons fighting to Claw their way first Out of my eyes

The Prairie Doesn't Apologize

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The prairie is what she is.The ghost of me passes bypulling a cow past a long stretchof nothing but prairie grass.She was so heavy with milkI didn't know if we'd make it back in time.The cow's bell echoingwith the sound of the howling wind.Today, I am walking a…