There was a knock at the front door of Apartment Number 9. Ace Quana tried to beat his wiener dog, Little Ace to the door, but he could not. For while Little Ace had stubby legs like wet…

The smell of candy and burn... /A patriotic prose poem for the fourth of July.

There is an island behind the house in which I grew up. It is a network of bicycle paths and booby traps. The past is snared there.

DARKNESS …

He finds a beach ball and recreates humanity upon it. Kicking it down the shore he wonders how the little people must feel about each other. To place them on such a tiny globe almost seems unfair.

Yesterday I saw Marco Polo getting a tattoo on East Olive. He was practicing Mandarin Chinese with the tattoo artist who was also Chinese. He got a yin yang symbol on his bicep. He looked to the east and saw the hills lift themselves into sky. He grimaced

A short time ago, a man who lived near me got angry. He woke up one morning and torched his house, with his wife and stepdaughter still inside. He drove up I-35 to the Georgetown airport, got his plane, and flew it into the Echelon Building in Austin.

It was the dead of winter. I took my father's shotgun from his closet. He kept it wrapped up in one of those khaki-colored gun tote bags that had a zipper running the whole length of the gun. It was a 16-gauge, single action shotgun. Anyone could tell wha

She knew there were a few rodeos in south Texas scheduled in the next two weeks. Mostly small-time stuff, but riders who hadn't had much luck might be inclined to improve their scores for the pro circuit. She guessed Lorenzo wasn't having much luck.

In the small towns of central and southern Illinois there lives a very indecent sort of man.

If you had a choice, be a poet or not, I’d suggest prose for the lines that you jot.

Eva stepped out of the hut she and Javier shared and slogged through the mud toward the coop to fetch fresh eggs for Javier's breakfast. None existed. Javier became angry when he didn't get his eggs. Eva slowed her pace as she neared the door. She knew wh

My therapist told me I have post traumatic stress disorder My uncle had that He fought in the war I guess I fought in my own kind Not between countries Between children and father Between husband and wife Between addiction and sobriety When my father got…

How I managed to find you, out of all the meaningless places on earth, in a place like Villa Park, among cornfields yet! And to have spent with you an age, a lifetime of nights, to empty out a little our emptiness. And all the hand can conceal, whether

Where I sit here clad in armour by the stars, I do not think of you; those thoughts are over. Beneath the silver here is light enough, To make me ponder by a lighter way. Beyond the bronze óf our sun and the others That haply rein the…