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We're so unkempt and sorry.

The Palatski Man

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He reappeared in spring, some Sunday morning, perhaps Easter, when the twigs of the catalpa trees budded and lawns smelled of mud and breaking seeds.

Wrestling with Genetics

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I know he's an accident waiting to happen.

Cahiers du Cinéma

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Hours later, we fell out of a helicopter like hunchbacked wingless birds.

Wake Up

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Mr. Dorn finishes the song and stands holding his penis, looking amazed, as if penises had just been invented and he'd been asked to try this one out for size.

The Anniversary

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I don't want you like a tiger doing homework in the circus

The Chair of Rejection

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Before I published anything in a literary magazine, I was rejected by literary magazines, dozens of them, and these rejections gave birth to one of my more strange and long-lived art projects.

If I Kiss That Girl

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Because she is waiting, seated on my hotel bed, making comments about my sonic white toothbrush being a vibrator, telling me she's bi, gorgeous with her poly-amorous discussion and long brown curling hair, with her fawn-like face and delicate breasts, wit

Rites of Spring

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A tiny bear emerged from the cave of his mouth, grabbed the hair and pulled it on his lap to play with it.

Our Kodak Moment

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“Should I go over?” Ma asked, wishing she could freshen her lipstick while finger-combing her frosted hair. “Sarah, fagodsake, let the man eat in peace. No one wants to have his picture made with food in their mouth,” said Pa.

under the skin

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Every few days, on one of our walks, the dog and I go down to a shallow, quick river...

How To Make Your Own Falling Star, or Dreamland Begins at Sunset, So Be a Dear and Pass It On, Will Ya?

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The world moves its roving glass eye around in front of you like a dog trying to flip over a frisbee, as if trying to show you how the loveliness of all things here and yet there, from an anything goes, different, always shifting,…

Lake Chelan

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Amish-like, between the sheets.

Gershwin’s Second Prelude

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While Kate practiced the piano in the tiny third-floor apartment, Wiley cooked dinner, jogging in place in front of the stove.


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I didn't tell her how deeply a terrible weakness for ginger haired people ran in our family, how fortunes had been lost only because of a red beard, a freckled shoulder of exquisite paleness, or a pink nipple.

We Are Not Joaquin Phoenix

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Joaquin Phoenix has inspired me to quit writing and purse my true lifelong passion.

My Date With Satan

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My date with Satan commenced at the Sanrio store by Union Square where we went to browse through two stories of miniature Japanese school supplies and grooming accessories.

Black & White/ Color

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We had them in our bunk beds in the trailer, before Becky fell and broke her neck.

The Tightrope Walker's Demonstration: Coming Out

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"Oh, abracadabra," she muttered.

Baby, Baby...

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Co-workers come in to pee or brush their teeth and the pump squeaks and from the stall, Ling says sorry…I'm sorry.

Bedtime Story

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Let me tell you a story, child, of how your father became your father...

The Proud Accounting

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She walks alone in black high heels

Carver Country

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My first love was a woman of principle. Never deny your man was her motto.

A grocery list found in a pocket at the end of another story

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Thornapples will make you dream things that never were.

Ping Pong

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In between, they love each other madly, fuck like the rare....

My Name is Smegma Jones, and I'm a Pussy: A Memoir

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Congratulations On Your New Diagnosis! (Greeting Cards for People With Mental Problems)

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First published on

The Book

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The woman returns from the store with an armload of books. She reads them quickly, one by one, over the course of the next few weeks. But when she opens the last one, the woman frowns in surprise. All the pages in the book are blank. Every single one.


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She was a dead bird the morning I found her, wings clipped in dirt and blood vanished into tiny braille maps on concrete.

Son of Goya

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I am not against the darkness / I can learn to live with restraint