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Flickers

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Saturday at Portobello market. Wind whittles leaves from the trees; casts shop signs into windows, turning glass to shimmering fishscale.

Did You Get Two

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“106 more miles,” she said.

At a Reading

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His wife leans her head against a beam with her eyes closed while he reads out loud. Her mouth shut tightly, almost twisted shut. She's so weary. She raises her collar and sinks further into her neck. When he shouts, or explodes — nothing. Not

just not working

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some days you wake up/ to feel horror/ wrapped beneath your blanket./

Touchstone Excerpt: Chapter 20, 'Ring'.

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The rush of noise inside her head was making her breath short and her palms clammy and there was nowhere for her to run. She couldn’t fight. She had no reason to smash him in the face, but her hand trembled with the urge to do violence as she rubbed it up

Impromptu Retranscriptions from the 'Song of Songs' (erotic poetry - explicit language)

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I. When my lips mouth yours where they are…

Desire

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Dark morning sleet whitecrusts the world once more, shrouds remains of January thaw:

Wrong Number

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"...just like you rehearsed..."

Cockroaches From Heaven

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Cockroaches may be falling through the holes in the floorboards of heaven, but we will not be disturbed. We are agents, free and clear, even if a little bit mean. I want to quit worrying about money, but the angels upstairs won’t let me. The

long goodbye

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where are you today?/ where you are is the one thing/ i love & cannot know

What Einstein didn't say

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First you must accept / the speed of light as constant. / If you can’t do that, stop reading.

A Broken Frame

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The photograph has no date,but these are my long-ago kin,ancestors just before the boat,six stone-faced on the English shore,sepia on cardstock under glassstill clear in severe, dark clothesexcept one who has been markedout, maybe with black wax,which runs to the bottom…

Alias

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I can tell you all about rock bottom.

Nostradamus

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the start of what you predicted

The Ghost's Tale

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Don’t worry, she said It’s not blonde down there But she is wrong It’s just as blonde down there As anywhere The light down along her arms For instance The down along her cheek On the back of her neck Her thighs Apparently I am n

Gyrle (n.) - Boy or girl

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Is it better to have a boy or a girl? That's not a rhetorical question. I'm really asking. When I was four, I used to wedge myself in between the wall and refrigerator and yell out, “Help! I'm stuck!” It was my mom's least favorite game. Meanwhile, half a

SEA BIRDS

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They frequent the open oceanbut not on this daythis day is dark and dank after aheavy rainstormI wait for them to come back tothe waterthey don't comeI wonder where they hide duringthe stormthe gulls don't fit in tree holesso where, where are they?

eritis sicut deus

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—but neither Lenin’s serenity nor Voron’s could last for long!

The 27 Club

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Jimi, Jim, and Janis Kurt and Amy too They died and gone to heaven And fit inside a shoe Room 114’s where they lie Their eyes wide open

Politicouscous I

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Were the coffee and gas not cheap,/ and in the case of the coffee, good,/ I’d never stop again.

Better Alive Than Dead

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How many of them, I'm wondering, are just going through the motions until the power goes out and never comes back on again? They've got to know the Americans will never let the city fall to the færies.

Madi's Love

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The depth of her love for Briana could only be heard on the 80’s ballads station fumbling from the stereo in Madi’s car, awkward, just like her smile.

postscript

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the sand is hot to walk upon so you must run if caught there w/out footwear. it is like a painter has colored the sea and made parts of it dark blue yet other areas green. little birds jump around the fine grain world and that is when you wonder where they came…

Anyone Can Do What They Can Do

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Cut my karmic rip-cord. Shower me in angel dust.Let me embrace the gray, this isn't loveat first sight, this isn't blindnessat the twinkling of any eye, this isn't the timefor the blowing of any trumpet.Anyone can dowhat they can do. Didn't you know this? Or are…

White Room

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A white room is empty but for you, a card table and a chair.

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 47

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—Mr. Martinelli, can you explain how you developed your painting technique?

Losing Things

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I infuriate myself with this gift.

You

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What is the meaning of you?

Just a Suggestion.

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[testing ... one, two, three ... testing ... is this thing on? ... ok, here goes:]

In A Lightning Storm, Sheep Run Through Barbed Wire

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I used to fear things. The lonesome wind come through the clapboards. Dry hillsides rustling. My own skin in the summer heat. Rattlers. Lurking. Abandoned coal pits. Pa said I was afraid of desolation. I didn't know what he meant by that. How can you be…