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Just as one thing I say is “Don’t worry about me,” one thing I think is that you love somebody by living with them...
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It was a Thursday. That's when I found out about the blueberries. Those precious, round little wonders, now forever untouchable.I left the note on the ledge of the balcony, taped down so it wouldn't fly away.It was going to come to this, eventually. After…
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Floating in liquor only to drown the next morning.
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I may even invite the little man, who lives in the closet, to come out and visit me: Come over here, pleasure me, let me sit on your pink latex face.
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Instead, I get things like,
“Why can’t you find a nice man with cancer or a bum leg?”
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That sound. Bone against bone. Skin across skin. Blood fraying into the unknown dark. He loved that sound.
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"Excuse me. I believe you have a little something falling from your right nostril there," he said, pointing with his pinky.
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People of Earth, a better tomorrow has come.
I’m near bursting with pleasure to report that the global community needn’t worry any longer about food shortages and famine and the like. Why? My patented insect-enlargement gun!
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When they first brought me home, I was their pride and joy. Then, one day, they put me in this wooden box.
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He had a simple dream: He wanted to become a star, and not one of those tv stars because those die, those die all the time, and before dying they usually become terrible shadows of their former selves, vile creatures who exploit their own former glory...
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Forty years is a very long time to live with someone.Ellen stood motionless at the curtainless kitchen window, staring at the autumnal woods, looking for signs of the various animals that frequented her property. She had done this every morning and every evening since Jim…
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My father is remarkably clever. That is, for a rundown, henpecked fisherman. He has caught me again. He has me slung over his back in a rickety lobster trap and I can hear him huffing and the water in him sloshing and though I can't see his face, I imagine it is ruddied…
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you happen to me like motorcycle tricks
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My mind raced at the endless possibilities one could die while driving to get a pizza.
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Then I see her walking down the grass aisle: my assignment. She looks nothing like the image I have been trained with, but her identifier is strong.
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I dream empty, the wind blowing benzene blue. Shards of glass. Barbed wire. Bricks crushing flame into notions gone quick, never painless. Is it my blood? In my eyes. On my hands. Is it for you? I'm not sure where I'm walking here. Walking towards what from. Is it…
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Your favorite nickname
existed only in the bright red
cherry smoldering
at the end of your smoke.
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The blackout lasted longer than anyone thought. From my fifth story window, the whole city seemed to shut down. I heard noises above me. How could it be?
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In today’s print-on-demand and digital world, there are unlimited avenues for aspiring writers to circulate their work, but deregulation and limitlessness often leads to chaos. Writers are more inclined to release unpolished work that fails to rise to the
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I remember when I first came to California, I heard a mockingbird sitting in a tree, calling out in the names of other birds. It was down in L.A. I was staying at my brother's house in San Gabriel and driving in every day to the campus at UCLA to go to s
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And it is pouring cats and dogs on a California afternoonoff the corner of Sunset and Highland.Droplets of sorrow drip down our foreheadas our eyelashes bash back the rain.A woman hands us free tickets to the Merv Griffin show.The bus is about to leave without us.We take…
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He saw in her something fierce and wild
and gently led her to
his open palm...
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I will show you how, in the spring,
the sidewalks here
look like a crossword puzzle resting under
a glass of lemonade,
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She was the clerk in the photography shop.
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The frog was splayed after its operation in the science lab, but not forsaken. He knew that his wife still loved him, even though he was in an advanced state of dissection. “Oooooo, Mdntf, let's hide under the table and touch tongues,”
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Bounder squirmed out of Francesco’s hands and ran into the kitchen.
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...and 55 words to tell you about it.
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Later, you've hit that four shot espresso limit; you've snarfed down that too rich mushroom korma… gone before you tasted it.
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Keeper of the balance. Husband of the night.
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