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Fibers(next:our world without ice caps/yipes!)

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The light they love to hate so much is always pulsating within each life; the unbelievable color sword of what happens next when any two people find each other in their hearts and all pretense is somehow gone, for at…

1994, What I Wanted

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Xanax, A hand gun, And the courage to pull the trigger

(give me a real moment with a living god and I’ll go all the way)

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I remember, when I was selling real estate, how you could always tell when there'd been a divorce. One room was conspicuously left emptied of its contents, and these rooms were never swept or tidied. Instead they were left just as they were when the par

gravelortian part 23

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Can't believe I was able to drive this far

Wintering at Montauk

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Montauk was the solution. He had no job, no money. He could stay for the winter at the summer place. It would be a lark. He had come home to Great Neck after losing the last job and they were making broad hints at him to move…

In the Garden

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It will always be this way/ won’t it, she said. Me insecure, you unfaithful

Sounds Came & Went

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"...regurgitating double A's all akimbo."

some poetry will shut you up

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o christ/ here you are again/ you sickness appearing in my brain/ pouring smog from my jaw/ my body hot and cold as though sleepless/ while i could sleep/ centuries/ undisturbed/ and awaken, tireder still./

Hoss Men (divided)

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Agents I have little idea. Woiwode partly supported his family in the 60s by publishing in The NYer (his friends were De Niro and Barthelme) so perhaps there was little trouble in his finding one. E.W. met his at a bar. He publishes in Paris and Texas.

During the Interim

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Nothing changes; the moon arcs its mindful lemon eye. . .

My Own Gun

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“What's a slut?”

Santos

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Further down a small group of men lolled near a doorway.

The Existential wish

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Play your wild card

The Man Who Couldn't Move

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Without warning his eyes expertly navigated into a closed position setting off the dream machine long without power until this very second.

Snake, Rope

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The snake was fang-less and so had to choke her, making the kill bloodless and drawn out, just the way she liked it.

My baby

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The nightmares started in the seventh month. I have always been a deep sleeper and one of the things that comes with that facility is an inability to extricate oneself from nightmares.

Prayer

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Prayer

2

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Then I am in Washington DC impersonating an accountant.

THE RUNAWAY (I)

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Her purse still hangs on the knob by the door, and seeing it is all that keeps Josh from freaking out because he knows she can’t go too far or too long without her purse.

Leaky Guts

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One day, Dasha confessed to Igor that she had an incurable illness: Purple emptiness.

Fireworks

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You load the pipe and suck in the fireworks. Whistling missiles, slithering sparks, shivering teases, dripping embers. You fall asleep with flashing neon outside and the Fourth of July in your veins. When you wake up, your room is the saddest place o

Nothing to laugh at, at all.

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The house had to be clean - I mean thorough-clean - when he got home from the pit for his tea, or he’d throw his plate at the wall and the gravy would run down onto the carpet. There was always gravy.

Who Loves the Sun?

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beat them with fists and purses.

TRAUMA

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Everybody breaks. Everything splinters.

On Socks

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There’s a hole in my sock, just large enough that my big toe keeps slipping out.

When the Moon Becomes the Sun

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While most spread their time in other occupation, I traveled through books and grew my imagination. I knew endless bliss. I was a book eater. I would just devour books that I loved and slug through those I didn't, just to make myself eat the truths and li

Fever

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Mesmerizing, the night’s queer colors, the darkness given depth by the earth’s crystalline sheen, by a sky choked with a million fleeting prisms. In the woods surrounding the house another branch snapped, a gunshot loud crack. The echo lingered, cap

Intro to Philosophy

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We now live in post-Postmodern Absurdist fear of course, says our smiling Prof. That’s the price we pay he tells us. . . .

Autumn Offering

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You may gather from me the spring of my youth

Echo

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When the poet loves,/ I said, quoting the poet,/ he loves himself.