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black crescent curved under

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I hope my blonde down still beats in your heart, and the black crescent curved under, you will remember, and I would move toward your window where my own heart lay in a dish, with the thick valley lifting. Remember, I crossed and uncrossed my legs f

I heard you singing in the bedrooms

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I heard you singing in the bedrooms with me. The down I was fond of, down of your cheek, your thighs light blonde in the light. Out of the dark, sweet bay, were you like a shining rock, shining white, undulating, a thing of heat. I remember you, yes!

'Bout Apples

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Sawyer walked toward the lone house with the sentinel trees. Behind him there were no tracks in the snow.

Act of Creation

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Mary ran her cake business in a way she could never have run her marriage. It was by appointment only, full deposit, partial refund (and this purely at her own discretion). Business was terrific and she had to turn down job after job. She only made…

Luce

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Lucy shrugs into the corner of the train's seat. She envelopes her IPod in both hands as if she's praying or holding a conch shell: safe, secure like when she visited a Morcombe beach in the school holidays. The only giveaway's the white headphone cord.

A Way of Place

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There are people walking, not knowing where they are, a way to peace is just that-- a place to go.

Hook

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“What the fuck!” Duke muttered, amazed at what he was seeing in the darkened store. A thin curtain of smoke was rising from under the baseboard like an inverted waterfall. It stretched the entire length of the left wall. Holy shit, the joint's on fire! I…

Postcard

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"Special delivery for a friend?" he asked. "Postcards are a wonderful thing. All people want to do nowadays is send e-mails. But what's better than putting a postcard on the fridge?"

Death's Noisy Herald

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Lying there, with the terrible screech emanating from his chest, blaring from his open mouth, he thinks about jet planes and jack hammers and nuclear explosions. He doesn't have quiet thoughts.

Crisp and New

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He told me it isn’t my fault. That my brain isn’t slowly and deliberately killing itself, not barbarically stripping away its own wiring to expose razor bursts of electricity.

Tumblring

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most interesting, i investigate all of this at 1:15 on a thursday morning and consistently contradict my assumptions while simultaneously validating them.

Sunset/Another Wasted Day

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He leans against the truck, the sun sinking on the day, shadows inching down the side of the house, yawning towards the horizon.

Sinning and Sinning and Sinning

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Then I learned she was revealing all our sexcapades to this young priest. Forgive me, father, I have sinned. We had sex outdoors against a tree in Wisconsin and the tree was blending with our act and becoming one with my back rubbing up against the bark

Global Arms - 3

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She continued to cooperate with a city council agenda dominated by globalized privatization

Gary

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Bipolar. Schizophrenic. Alcoholic. Addicted. Abused. A reader?

Functionary

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The work of translation is a braid of light.

Love's Hinterlands

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Sit down at night and stare into the fire. Consider if Cupid is just another liar.

Soviet

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The neatly-gentrified Mtsensk District plaster buckled in all the right grey-painted places. The aged, yellowing windows rose and fell in fashionable decay. It was a well-upholstered citizen's slum, drawn to exacting state specifications. Local housing authorities…

Dear Earth, On the Occasion of Your 40th Earth Day Birthday

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Everyone is tromping around in work boots like an army of happy gardeners. The park is smiling from all this attention, from the sound of kids who think work is play. It's not even sunny but we don't mind. I know you don't. Grey days are just as good. They've…

HOUSE OF DREAMS

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Something was changing. We could sense it in the circling air. A loss of stillness - and we'd been still for so long.

Rivers of red

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Proudly we fight, yetWe run, we hideIn the jungle's quietBut how can we hushthe screams of the dead?

Esther

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the moon is the pupil of the cave’s eye

Five Million Yen: Chapter 40

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Ben was dreaming of sex with Claudia. But, in his dream, he could hear Dan Arris calling his name and pounding on a door. The fear of Dan Arris was pushing out the delights of Claudia.

Chimes of Coins or Branches

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It must be some sort of Freudian twist, but as her cold fingertips draw rings on my navel, I think of my mother. Here, her body watches my tongue, asking my lips to curl into the letters of her name. I can't get erect. I remember my mother's face—her eyes almost…

Recipe for the Broken

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This poem first appeared in “Walt’s Corner” of The Long Islander, founded by Walt Whitman in 1838.

Karma, Old Dogs, and Fine Men

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“You people remember the thing you learned in science about every action creating its own equal and opposite reaction? The same is true in other realms. All of existence is continually recycled…again and again in infinite permutations. In other words,

Chu Berry, Tenor Wrapped in Swaddling

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They heard Chu’s voice, he was lying ten feet away, his skull opened up. “Find my change,” was all he was saying. “I left my change around, look for it."

And her child

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The mother was happy, though. She was happy because she could make him some soup and then she could feed it to him in bed.

Blessed

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The first thing Noah did, more or less, was plant a vineyard.

Left at the Tracks

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Shivering in the car, he watched his parents arguing under the porch light. He saw the smoking anger of their breath as they jabbed the cold air with accusatory fingers.