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The Model

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My art teacher hated Salvador Dali.


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On the bed he tickled her until she was crying with laughter. And then the tickles became caresses, the fingers, lips.

Train Whistles In Wintertime

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Train whistles in wintertime made him feel lonely.

The Tease

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She was sick and tired of marriage. She didn't want to be a mother, but now she was.

Tree Voices (revised)

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Purple Gel Tab

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When you collapse, fall in my stupid direction Or: if I say, you're the chosen one, do something shiny


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If this was the day when the bribes of whiskey and US dollars would fail to work. If on this day a black bag, smelling of shit and fear, would be pulled over his head – the bloodied roots of a knocked out tooth tickling his neck.

Passing Past

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No one means to go that way, on an errand to the mall....


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Millicent asked me to stop over at her place for coffee after work because we needed to talk. While pouring, she said she was torn about telling me what her father used to do to her when her mom was not around, but she thought I needed to know how twisted her life was…

Faith, Hope, and Charity

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She wears three or four tattered sweaters on cool days. She pushes a basket borrowed from a grocery store. There is a plastic lawn bag in the basket with God knows what inside.

Sweetie and Jack

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Let's walk through this park. We can talk until dark. You have the look of a wolf. I'm not stupid, Jack. I'm a lamb, you'll see, once you get to know me. That tat is fierce and your leathers tight black. My ink is old and black suits me, I'm told. …

Strange Bird

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shortest yet


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“Dolphins swim in the soul when it is calm,” the king of television yoga says. His face seems so relaxed. Suddenly, you feel the heat, and must remain quiet to remember, again. Later, you will hang with…

Small dreams of a late worker

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She stuffed the stars down her stockings and left;

Rwanda Suite: Cabaret La Prospérité

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You made that child crawl around there under the table, to do that thing, and someone should have stopped you; I should have stopped you.

The Girl Who Moved to Atlanta

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“It always about a man, isn’t it?” shrieked the collective furies of her mind.

Picture Window

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You call your wife. “Do you see what I see?” you ask.

A Thousand Days

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Some claim my brother lay with me, I own

The Secret

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Of course then I did it all over again. Got married, that is. Fortunately, this one worked out.

Live Oaks

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Neither/ evergreen nor exactly deciduous./ And soon, a yellow residue of pollen/ smearing hoods and windshields

A Skeptic’s Faith

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Sunrise steals


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He spends his Sunday morning spraying WD-40 through the straw-like stream attachment at the expansive paper nest of beige and ivory striped wasps.


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The Photograph

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But if he's been photographing her for almost thirty years, there must be close to 11,000 images. During the session, they don't speak. And, after so long, words are not really necessary.

Seed Toss

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Know what you’ll become? You’ll become one of those guys who masturbates in any single occupancy restroom that locks.

Finger Weaving A Voyageur Sash

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Night's air awhirl, the sky shoots fireflies. Sometimes, she bleeds black arrows in her dreams.

Three Micros

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The earth moves.

The Birds

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My wife goes away for a few days to the little town where Hitchcock filmed The Birds.

Today's Going fast

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screw everything, youth is plinko

The Light After Equinox

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Soon enough, October’s ragged/ lawn will hide its deficiencies// under withered leaves of oak,