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Dog Goddess

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His rescue dog, Luna, resembles a cartoon dog; meringue-colored, frothy-fur with floppy, serious ears. Little, with huge presence. Impossibly perfect dog rescued in a drainage ditch. He told me the story—that Luna had been orphaned and abandoned and how he…


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Slip me in Between the cracks in your schedule Between the sheets of your bed Between your memories and your fears Between your eyes and the moon where I'll twinkle at you Slip me in somewhere, I won't disturb you Won't make you want to push me away Let…

The Gallery of Wounds

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The blood is memorable/ as is the copper taste of that/ momentary certainty of lockjaw.

Not Creative

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a poem about things exploding/burning down/scattering for miles.


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under a laughing moon

Ajloun Castle

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the wind mistook your arms for wings

The Crack in my Heart

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We have rhythm; in the way I fork lentils into her dropped lip, how she scratches her left temple with jagged fingernails.

Odorless Colorless Caustic Topical Triolet

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or Walmart, where punks play the blues In lieu of suicide, on toy guitars:

Another Ending

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you tell a stranger's story...

The Handsome Whales

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are speaking clear enough through their open and bleeding wounds for you to understand. Waving their massive arms like living lighthouses bobbing in and out of the floundering waves, they are splashing out an urgent intelligent S.O.S.…


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The four Grannies say, “GO!” and leap from the window. King's pickup is below, and he has lined the bed with his mother's throw pillows. Sundresses fly. Blue plastic diapers billow. They want cigarettes. I light their smokes with King's pearl-handled lighter as…

Long Story Short

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I grew up in Cleveland and when I returned I became friends with the manager of the Cleveland Indians.

The Silence in your Silence

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Rwanda Suite: Jemima

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...they'd told us about green mamba strikes, failure to take our anti malarials, the insanity of alcoholic Flemish nuns.

Friend Of The Devil

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Confessions of an Impersonal Spectator

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This is why I’ve decided to assign myself a position in life similar to that of Stuart Sutcliffe with the Beatles.

Thirteen Ways of Looking at Blackbeard

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Across the placid sea/The only moving ship/ Was eyed by Blackbeard

Bacon's Blood (46)

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Hotel scene (bring your imagination)

The Last Days of Joe Oliver

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“No tears,” Louis said, “just glad to see us.”

Self Recognition

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You hold me now, and pay attention. Everything is new.

The Weight of Need

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In need of help, he bought his first self-help book at the age of twenty-nine.

Sunny Side

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I was so used to the silence of late summer afternoons, when I could roll my hoop through the empty, sunlit piazzas without meeting another shadow, that at first I mistook the footsteps for the beat of a metronome spilling through an open window.

Four Songs

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Why Albany, NY Sucks Shit Through a Straw

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Sometimes you're too bar behind to be properly “prepped” for it, sometimes you're too far past to notice, yup, you've missed your (cultural) train . . .

The Vocationers [Card #19: The Sun (v.4)]

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"That your cock we saw on Tumblr?"

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 34

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—Now that’s a hell-of-a-painting, Frank, he said. Those colors are engaged in warfare. How the hell did you do that?

Rags to Riches to Rags: 11

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Many weddings took place at the foot of the Astronomical Clock Tower. One every hour, on the hour. It turned out these were set-up photo shoots for things like men’s cologne, brocade bridal gowns, and smoked carp. At night we wandered around the many cr

Rags to Riches to Rags: 12, Lenin’s Paintings

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This was the tale Einstein told us about these paintings by Lenin... I was going through Lenin's jewelry and his paintings with a team of experts. I got the idea that I was hired to verify his paintings, although I didn't know he painted. When