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33 and a 1/3

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I've been in Tucson two days, and so far most of my conversations with my father have taken place while I crane my neck and squint into the sun. I scream up, he screams down. He needs to fix the leaky roof before the rainy season, he says.

Arcana Magi Rush

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The screams snapped Akane out of her thoughts. She looked up and there was a dragon, all alone. It flapped its bat like wings, stationary in the sky.

Prairie Flowers

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As a kid he had run away from the family farm and shoveled coal back East to put himself through college. Now he was just another old man in a nursing home, desperate for a drink, his blue eyes bleary, a sticky goo filming at the corners of his lips.

Contagious Blinking

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He pulls on his wispy goatee and shifts his weight a few times from one foot to the other. That doesn’t help. It rarely does, to be honest.

LAST CALL: A Memoir

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We see o­nly the results which a man's choices make out of his raw material . . . when his body dies all that will fall off him, and the real central man, the thing that chose, that made the best or the worst out of this material, will stand naked. All sorts of things…

The Walk of Shame

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There it was One abandoned high heel shoe on the sidewalk Could have been Some kind of robbery Though Maybe it was just The beginning of the Walk of shame

All the Pretty Boys

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Somewhere along the line he had also become a junkie, so he had a plastic bottle filled with methadone. I took a swig of that as we decided to jump in a cab and go to a dance club. It was a total shit-hole...

The shoes of 9/11

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thunder striking in a pancake cumulative, his building bouncing upon itself, life going Richtor Scale, a billion pounds of panic per square second

Surprise!

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We were fleeing Hurricane Katrina We stopped somewhere in Texas at a roadside diner But found a sign that said it was closed All of a sudden as we sat there in our car The shop’s owner knocked on the window And asked what he could get for us

~elephant ink~

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one numberless character, an army of rants marching one by one, sand by sand, we move mountains this way…

It's Not Enough

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I'll never forget the way you tasted that last morning that I ever saw you.The blurry eyed look on my face as I searched your bed for my tshirt, and you in a hurry because you were already late for work bending down onto the bed and grabbing my chin the…

I Was a Gigolo for a Fruit Fly Database

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All I need is a break; to meet a woman who has access to a fruit fly database, either personally or through a trust established by her fruit-fly collecting grandfather.

David and Big Bird

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Hot sweaty bodies slam into each other to get aboard the overflowing subway car. I struggle to wedge myself though the sliding doors, bracing for more bodies to press against mine. The passengers in front of me suddenly stop and fan out.

4Beers

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I would ask for your name/if your tongue wasn’t in my mouth.

The Pataphysical Tourist

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We all get in a carriage of tin and volcanic glass and go a-touring. We had quite an itinerary to fulfill, all of it loosely applied to the principle of serendipity. We toured Luxembourg and tossed pretzels to the bankers who did tricks for us, somersaults and complex…

Hearts

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She thought of an animal checking a scent before mating, and imagined that he said to himself, “All I need is for this woman to be hitting on me.”

1978 What I Wanted

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What I wanted was to rewind the film

NYQUIL DREAMS

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The capsules tumble around, one of them plinking against the crown in my upper-right jaw. I hate the crown… a mute reminder of the first time Brad hit me. Swallowing the capsules, my tongue probes the left side of my mouth, finding the other two crowns…

the sleep of rain

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Soon you too will lie down with the sleep of rain, telling them a thing or two, grown old by having lived through your youth, that is all. Lying from the side of your mouth so often that you take up lying on your side, to try getting an eyeful of the of

any sixtieth century

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carrion is no longer hauled away:/if the road killed it, it must be the road’s . . .

Bread Sweaters

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We sat around the ocean table and ate eyes on ham

Act Of Contrition

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I haven’t written a poem in months.

Memoir 2.2

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Just after Al snapped the shutter the fucking monkey tried to tear his face off.

Well Enough Away

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Everybody knew the buildings were trying to kill us.

More Visions of Astounding Beauty

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I remember saying, I’ll tell you what I think, if you tell me even one of your little secrets, okay? Whoa! A little too much information there, Wolfie, or Pharaoh, or whatever your name is now. I remember you with the same beard (just a different co

Jazz Torn

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Lungs bursting in the alleyways trying to keep with the beat.

Writing Prompt 5086992075

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Set your three-word story in prison.

Flamingos

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Over fifty plastic flamingos stood silently at attention... as if eating sea urchins out of our lawn.

Daddy, Can I Have A Puppy?

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Dad must have walked around with me 20 times, the store closed around us and finally he said I could have one. They were all in different poses and sizes, with black spots. Except one. One had silver spots.

Late Afternoon in the Universe

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In the evening when the sun sinks low and the baths gets drawna tall glass of milk sits slowly spoiling and sweating on the cracked white window sill. And the kids walk across the grass.The birds send out their last farewell notes They sail on the infinite breath of…