Most recent stories

tell yourself

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tell yourself, poet /without her / under the small fire of winter stars / that you love what you are

No Collar

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Eating my teeth off pulling the silk from my lips and swallowing each kerchief wholejust trying to find the priest who has his heart set on a motorcycle

Eggs

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still curious of the taste of eggs finally licking my plate

Couples

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She served him pie she knew was ruined.

It happened

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She became a murderer in all the stages of her life she could not seem to succeed

Ripped from the Headlines

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Their relationship had proved volatile. The husband had gone missing. The wife had gone dead.

My Back (Facebook) Pages*

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It's all over now, Baby Blue...

Chrysanthemums

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Why I like My Watches Analog

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watch/ the second hand sweep

Arcana Magi Pure Vol.7 - c.4

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Mayumi flicked her hand, making her circle deflect the spell. She picked up speed and her hand grabbed Emi.

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!]

Adirondack

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after Mark Strand This featureless age holds us in distain, So too, the sage that speaks of only fate, And always the steeple, the ship, the acid rain. Somewhere up north a loon cries in pain, A deal…

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…

The Watcher

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My boss was a camera. Oh, I reported to a real person—a real person named Rosemary Northbridge. (A name that seems altogether wrong. Too Victorian, too old-fashioned for a team leader at Blast, …

Pair of Bright Eyes

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

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.

Battle of the Planets

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Bound to Stakes

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You were never wetter, it was never better.

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.

Matilda is my love

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Suddenly she seemed like all of the answers to my prayers, but something inside me halted me and reminded me of the fact that she was not even a proper lesbian. That would not stop me from making advances, though. Carefully.

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…