Most recent stories

The Parade Route

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There will be no more internal birds like singing clocks, not like the lovely ones I know and still look forward to hearing, ringing like little bells in the church y belfry of the newly sprouting mornings to come, not unless the birds…

Edward Ogle the Third

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Assimilated wheat germ integrated ant worm the capital of brazil.

Purveyors of Leeches

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I am a purveyor of leeches. All my friends are purveyors of leeches. We meet weekly to compare our wares.

Four Poems

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Our disappearance would register/ as the movement of a sand grain/ on a windy beach full of sand.

Restaurant Rondo

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Before she flushes the toilet the world is spinning.

magnets

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... his skin glistened like a sharp blade

Snatch XII

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No. No. No.

Perchance to Dream

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Catherine, after another haunted, bewildering morning wondered if there might be a way to hide from her nightmares. Was there a way to trick them? Shouldn't she try? She drove over the bridge, something she didn't often do, to buy…

Arcana Magi Zero Arc 2 - c.3

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All Karin did was watch from the street. No movement. No reaction. She just watched.

Friday 13.10.1307

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This is a warrant for your arrest.

Living In My RV - song

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I’m just living in my RV Guess my parking karma won Got some pigeons for my pets Cause I’m sorta on the run I’m just living in my RV And I’m not the only one But I’m getting kinda bummed Cause I miss my little hon Tried to kick my gambl

For my lost child

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and where have the years sped how distant was your youth

Lucky Faces

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The people with the lucky faces Are always sneaking out more credit For everything than they deserve. Maybe They are right, maybe it's our fault For buying into the myths of the Land of mirrors. The people with the Lucky faces haven't…

You are not Medusa

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Autobiography

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The story of my life/ would put insomniacs to sleep.

Noir vs. Noir

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You're sitting in a darkened theatre with Gothic ceilings and one exit watching the latest Alan Ladd film with William Bendix and Veronica Lake.

Virgin

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Steven was a hollow tree of a man — outwardly normal for a tired fortysomething, but empty inside. He lived alone in an old farmhouse that reeked of decomposition and Lysol, the previous tenant having left a dozen skinned raccoon carcasses in the attic.

ASH WEDNESDAY

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Everybody knew the McDonald’s at the Waterfront was selling theraflu stamp bags, and I guess I’d heard how bad it was for you—they’d had reports of dumbasses ODing on channel 2, 4, and 11—but it was a lot stronger than regular heroin and a lot cheaper...

Fragment

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see the man

I'm Never Going Home

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After the ship stopped shaking, the angry flashes of warning lights discontinued, a few people could be heard sobbing or whispering prayers.

Between Yoko Ono and a Hard Place

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There was a man.There always is a man.Let's say this man was a hippiein the sixties and grew a beard, a blondbeard and hung out in Central Parkwith his guitar and his lyrics. Let's sayhe took too many drugs, drank too muchbourbon, slept with too many women.Let's say it is…

The Sweetness of Youth

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On my twenty-second birthday, in the spring of 1979, I had a crawfish boil, my first. Ninety pounds of red mudbugs on a picnic table spread with newspaper, my birthday cake sitting at the end of the table like an afterthought.I hadn't…

On the Country Roads Tonight: I Don't Care - song

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Wheels are spinning On the country roads tonight I’m driving all alone No one else in sight And the wind’s in my hair And I don’t care Yeah, the wind’s in my hair And I don’t care

Day Seven

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Once again, I start the engine.

Boredom takes a Snapshot

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Bad Back

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Sharpie marked, Free Still Works

Snatch XI

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Public voice when he's tense.

The Road to Ensenada

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One of the men leaned over and spit long and dark next to where the dog lay curled. He said something about the senora, and the other men laughed.

Toy Universe

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She crossed the room to a tub in the center, the great woman with flowing locks of bronze, turning the taps until a heatless white became warm enough to bathe in. She added soap of some kind and the light became the bubbles,…

Clouds to the Makers

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You'll be gone. I'll be gone. I'd hate to think how it was all for nothing, that all we did was stumble into a pretty big hole of our own making. The best place for a broken heart after all is in your own sweet chest. No one else…