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Carriages Wait In Long Rows

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She who is not a widow had once listened to the river repeat its story.

Autobiography 22: It’s Not Just the Income

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Unless they leave you comatose,/ it’s the disasters you remember.


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It’s so uncomfortable being an Angel in a sack

ice becomes a new marvel

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at all altitudes and at all latitudes / glaciers in furious melt: / both Greenland and Antarctica headed both / to be ice-free isles adrift / and with shorter coastlines amidst higher seas.

A Whole

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You sawed off my wings then Asked


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I'm writing you a letter played on a cherry flute. I'm sending it along through the poem's cloud of incense. The only delivery system I still hitch up for long distance pitching. I'm writing you a letter you'll probably never read. Never get.…

A Coin, Two Coins

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It hangs unspoken in the sadness he pushes through his harmonica, while his hands work the old, beat-up guitar that tries to be a Gibson for his fingertips.

Even if I was a Fool

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I enjoy the walk through these crowded woods. It's good to be back among deeply seated young and old trees again. That familiar smell, you want to always savor it so very much, to not deny any of it. It smells like a blue sky, the…

Cottontail Morning

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A murder of bunnies nibble the St. Augustine,

A Brief History of The Real

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A little contempuous aside by the critical theorist guy, Frederick Jameson-- that it was logically absurd to call anything that human beings do, produce or effect “unnatural,”-- has brought forth the following. We are…

In the Life

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You had autumn in your hair I liked the way you sat at a table And drank champagne My past years have carried me To sixteen countries Christ, we have so much to share Listen, I know how the other half lives And we can’t live like that an


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The drop is like a hangman's drop, an executioner's, but farther and longer, perhaps three or four seconds.

Fish Tales

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Billy's days were much like his yesterdays, with little hope the ones to come would be any different.

It's All in Your Head

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The terms of a broken heart, I guess I nevergot to read them. But they must besomething awful, something numbing, something no sane personwould ever agree to. You're already on the vergeof becoming nothing I can remember without a photograph beingshoved in my face. Like a…

Where Has All the Laughter Gone?

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The despair that comes and goes is here again I saw a woman who was holding herself As she walked past, as if a fire were about to Lunge out of her parts She was in such great need of being held The despair that comes and goes is here again

Just Yesterday

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midnight mooring

Dubious Appetite

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Looking back now, examining from a distance the sequence of events I failed to connect as anything beyond queer happenstance...

A Journal of the Plague Year: Day 76: Specters of the Sixties

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" If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stomping on a human face--forever." 1984, George Orwell

observations on an autumn day

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macho bucks in velvet defy you driving down the lane


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It's true. I like to walk on the ceiling. But please. Don't hold it against me. The ceiling is cold. Nobody lives there. Just a spider. A curious arachnid. She lets herself down sometimes. If I'm on the bed, trying to sleep, staring at the ceiling, watching her…

Life After Les Miz

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There are many ways to cope effectively with your life after a Les Miserables run, and everyone is different, but here are some things that have helped others work through the process.


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This is not her death. This is absent-minded omniscience. This is impossible. And then again, the inside-out, implosion. And the hall was clogged with bodies; none of them hers, but who could be sure?

The Summer Of My Beautiful Idiocy

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In the summer of '68 my father persuaded me to go visit my grandparents on their farm in North Dakota. I had long hair and dressed like a French symbolist outlaw. Took the train to Minot, spent the night in a hotel (watching Your Cheatin' Heart, movie about Hank…

About The Author

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Gnarly Berger was born in a guitar case in Istanbul. His mother was an Iranian singer from Israel accompanied by a Turkish santur player & a French guitarist (Gnarly's biological father) and into whose guitar case Gnarly entered this world, somewhat by accident,…

The Virus

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It all felt so tentative, he thought. The whole set up. Running water. Electricity. A vast network of instant communication. Food in all the stores. It was the latter that gave him the most concern. He'd never really been hungry. Even in his poorest days, in his early…

Fly Fishing For Bats

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then something like a shark gnawing on a harpsichord. Her drum kit apparently is an entire laundromat. A pocketful of marbles spilling in rivulets, down a set of narrow linoleum steps, merrily as two warblers splashing in a birdbath. several octaves below

five shards of the ancient and the antique

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“Outis of Utopia” my found name! / I'll inscribe it soon as the tide goes out.

March for Me

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A son packs his bag - bottled water, extra masks, and jerky. Mom paces behind him. “Don't go.”


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Into the silence

Fireflies Flew Out of the Slice of Life

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In the beginning there was salt God licked the salt and said it was Good. Then there was Light Then Chocolate The rest is just History It’s no great Mystery Oh, and Fireflies Fireflies with Due Dates Flew out of the Slice of Life S