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My Glass is Waiting

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The trouble with alarm clocks is naturally that they are miserable. And their curse is that their misery is useful: we employ them because we want to get away from them. But we would never have one as a friend.

Sensible Things

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Thirty-seven stitches to sew your ear on, five more to close the skin above your eyebrow...

Starting Over 1974

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Stone-gathering became my job by default. Digging the foundation, trundling the loaded wheelbarrow away from the site, yours.

The Woman with No Skin

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Far away or up close, she appeared just like anyone else, a young woman with pale arms and legs and a milk-face unblemished by a single freckle or pimple or blotch. Only when she turned a certain way did it become clear that what rested atop her muscle an

Visitation

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My mother looked up and began to laugh, it was a nervous tittering, but there was delight in her eyes at the crazy spectacle of our small black puppy eluding, probably taunting all these armed police.

Sunday Morning

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Elvis on a Saturday night in Hades sings deadlines and parlour tricks

DING!

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He tapped his foot, swished his hips, swaying across the worn tile floor with an invisible partner in his arms, the batter-coated spoon still clutched in his right hand, momentarily forgotten. Nearly a decade had passed since he last shared a dance with h

Brief excerpt from the Fantasy thing I'm writing.

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Lucien Lucien Tidesquall lay almost sleeping amid the soft green grass. His eyes irradiated green midnight under vanquished brows. A plover hovered somewhere in the distance. It reminded him of a poem he had written as a teenager, a haiku that went as…

dealt.

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Stealing time. Always gambling. I used to wake up with wet eyes; remnants of nights and days spent in places I never wanted to leave. I took to insomnia to escape the dreams that reminded me of places I could never return to.Now I sleep here. When I can.

Killing Bin Laden: The Television Series

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Certain basic realities have escaped us. This is a good time to remember.

How to Hypnotize Women

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The irony is that Smart's work of self-abnegation has surpassed that of her erotic master; George Barker is largely forgotten now, while the reputation of Smart's one work of genius seems secure.

THERE AIN'T NO REAL GROWN-UP'S NOWHERE NO-HOW by Leanna MacFarlane

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[Huh!]

Swiss Miss Index

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Rye goods * Cracker brot: best practices * Recipes: never embellish! * Boughten: what to avoid

Tin Foil Hat Sold Separately

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When I finish recording this tape, I will bury it under the azaleas in my front lawn. I have left instructions for my attorney that, on the first full moon after my death, he should have Oliver Stone dig it up during the dead of night and deliver it to Ji

Grandma (My Mother) At Christmas

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A tanka/haiku poem about grandma getting run over by a reindeer.

How We Handle Our Midnights

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He fingered her lighter off the table during a party hoping she would come over and talk. She was just on the other side of the coffee table but the stereo was so loud, belly or dee lite or some other early 90's dance…

Soliloquies and Interludes of the Interior Zombies

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As parents watched my skin grow paler, hair/ go raven, and demeanor change from pert/ to smiling calm, they started to complain.

Lorelei

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It was all things considered a particularly odd sight, which Annalise did not know how to handle.

Ponchatoula Tulip

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You could call it love.

A Drowning

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This is the record of a drowning.

Have You Seen The Globe Today?

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http://www.boston.com/lifestyle/articles/2011/07/17/imagine_mimes_as_the_mbta_noise_police/

Birthday Makeover

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Iris is beside herself with excitement that the most popular girl in her eighth-grade class invited her to join her circle of friends after school. On the sound of the bell, she charges to the door to be the first out of the room and to race to meet Ange

My Cousin & I

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My cousin and I walked around the village at night. It was beginning to rain, but we walked on. She had a jacket. I didn’t because of course. She said: “Sometimes I just want to know if he’s settling or he’s really in love with me.”

intensely interested (but repressing it)

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whenever i see youit feels like birds are flyingin and out of my facemy head is ghost-like and birds flythrough iti want to hold the birds insidemy head and turn them intosex maniacs

The Tourists at the Museum

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For the camera she smiles otherwise not and only when she is standing beside him But for the camera? for the crowd for posterity yes For their children for the future? yes, again yes a thousand times until her face be

Five Million Yen: Chapter 48

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Ben was not a happy musician.

The Dolly Boys

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I have a fascination with Dickens and London and this was inspired by my next novel.

Provincetown: Where America and its Drama Begin

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Eugene O'Neill is remembered as a troubled, brooding artist, but he had grown up in the theatre and was a hustler for the business of himself as well.

Thanksgiving

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Ted rose and began searching cushions of the bad furniture in his loft (Monte's loft, if you thought in terms of leases and rent and who had his shit together). Three shineless quarters in the yellow vinyl chair, a dime in the heater, nineteen cents in t

Snowbound

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Shut up.You shut up.That's disgusting.You should talk.Fuck off.Fuck me.whore.Yes.More.Shut up.