Most recent stories

In an authentic Irish pub in Las Vegas

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In an authentic Irish pub in Las Vegas where over much crowd noise the three of us are discussing Yeats, Joyce and Lady Gregory. We’re in an Irish pub after all, plus the fact we’re literature profs attending a Vegas academic conference.

Puppet X, 1

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I know you, ladies and gentlemen We see the near future through you Your factual face as you sit indoors Youthless In your ordinary chair "Mice run through their vision Mice run through

The Planet Will Erase Us

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We control/ nothing.

Waves of Memory

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"Sometimes things just don’t go as planned. It doesn’t mean anyone is to blame - It just is."

East

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We went east. It wasn't all that easy, but easier than staying where we were, unable to freely move or give birth to anything brand new. We went east insearch of the mysterious faraway beginnings of a mythical wild west. We went east becauseit…

My First Love Messages Me On Facebook

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He tells me that he thinks he reached out as he needed healing and I wonder if I should diagnose him on the spot, explain what years of therapy taught me about him. I don't. Instead I compliment a photograph of the pot plants he grows, organic,

Notes from an Extra-Galactic Alchemist on an Observed Failure of Proto-Intelligence

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. . . as the very detection of this hurtling debris showed plainly, Nature could not be trusted.

Edward Ogle the Tenth

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shitting out the Mona Lisa.

Tendrils

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you stand ashore

Executing the Trade

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Prospero's in his cell and I'm in mine. He drowns his books, I'm drowning in mine. He exercises his power–I'm powerless to exercise.

Morning Thoughts (4)

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I like inserting cherries and daisies in my poetry. * Each drop of water has its own pearl. * I like a poem for what it doesn't say. * We don't see birds die. They do it discreetly. * I should have listened to things when they spoke to me. …

In the Woods

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...come come come come...

A Writer Abroad

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Here’s an obvious fact: I live in Germany, but don’t speak much German. Okay, I speak very little German. Truth be told, hardly any.

Guns in the House

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Jack would have felt betrayed, and my parents alarmed, had they ever suspected me of playing with Jack's guns, but I found the temptation overwhelming.

'MY DICK IS SO HARD FOR JESUS!' by Christofascist Jones

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"Now, I'm not no Holocaust Denier . . . I just think it was a little bump in the road! Like Reagan said about Watergate . . . 'Mistakes were made,' and all. Well, shoot . . .…

Stuff

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Art books, paintings, antique chairs, marble tables, full length gold gilded mirrors, oriental rugs, tapestries, a Louis XVI painted French armoire, a wrought iron Deco coffee table, flat ware, silver flasks, mantel lamps, iron gates, a silk settee, theat

Supermarket Blues

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Man on aisle nine looking for the answer to cancer Will the partially clothed couple on aisle four please put the rest of their clothing back on If you are finished doing whatever it was you were doing? Man on aisle five trying to imagine Whil

O'Arlo's Journal: About Myself

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Every morning if I don't have to go potty....

Three in a Major Key

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One can watch the grass green/ in response. One can watch the world green/ in response.

On Advertising

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As you can see, egotism forms at a young age for people who end up in this industry.

Starry Night

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I invited Van Gogh over for some drinks and a chat. I'm talking about Vincent.

The Body in the Other Room

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I couldn’t parse the grammar of her body nor decode the secret softness of her neck.

Me The Tree

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I am a tree.

Where Is Daddy?

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He checks the bedrooms first, then the hallway, followed by the living room and the bathrooms. When he can't find you he takes to calling out, daddy, I'm sure the neighbors hear.

All You Wanna do is to Sink (but you stink)

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into another bright vat of boiling over hot lies. It's sick, man, the way you'd rather dig for a supposed (royal) buried treasure than make a new beautiful thing start to happen, breakyour back, break your spirit, over and over, until there's nothing left to…

the weather past where roads end

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a soft wooden clatter, wind-battered reeds/bound to the banks of ditches rank,/ill-purposed waters slide into low swamps/whose waters into rivers seep and crawl.

How We Open Doors

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-- as if I had / only rung the rusted bell --

Cayetana: A Love Letter to the Band

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"Oh, sit on my face oh won't you? Your velvety wetness would provide a nice counterpoint to the upholstery of the sofa-matching easy chair, crummy but that's the charm of this hipster-ironic dive playing 80's crap so I have to cram your music in my…

Contentions

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...a session/ of hide and seek/ among the syllables.

April Wheeler

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Where am I? The void between life and death. The light at the end is flickering, not as bright nor as strong as I’d hope it would be.