Recommended stories

~American Woman~

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…like candy and puke on your tongue, the fakest broad ever, cruising like a busted prow, busted wheel, mast and stem, these stately wrecks and rotten flowers of perfume and the deadly bitchiness of the modern woman’s expectations.

This Man Waited on Me at Peet's Coffee

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Way stronger than Starbucks turned out to be.

Enemies Are Taken Care Of?

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A waiter at the café was saying “I’m opening the curtain here behind your back Is that okay?” “Go ahead,” I told him. “It’s all right” “Enemies are taken care of?” “They already got everything,” I said Suddenly both of us were laughi

Police And Thieves

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Chapter one I was sitting in the doctor's office. For weeks, my nerves had been on edge, and I had been feeling like he was going to have a nervous breakdown. I needed the help of a professional. It was hard for me to admit this. I was taught that a man handled…

The Civil War Between Mother and Son

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It was a sad sort of fun to beat your mother’s people and all they stood for, wrongly.

The Simplicity Being Enough

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You read my poems, Not because you like them, But just to find yourself, Mentioned in them.

Stationcity Drums

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Deep in Stationcity they began to drum.

At the back of the crowd

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They were all celebrating something, but she couldn’t see what it was.

Traffic, I'm in no rush.

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Traffic, no need to be in a hurry.

A Noir Celebration

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A kind of sucking darkness into A kind of noir celebration of despair

The Conversion

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She became suited to herself only. She no longer tried in any way to fit, she fought the molds they created and kept moving in her own direction. Often forward, sometimes a bit backward, and she rightly scaled her own Mt. Olympus and there she sat with he

A New Chapter to Song of Solomon: A Poem

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My beloved lets me crawl into bed and put my feet on him since his skin is warm and hot like a fire roaring from within his soft flesh.

Voice of the Past

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You are about to experience a voice from the past. Here we go ... jet back to about 1964. I remember you with the same beard (just a different color!) and slightly longer hair. I remember drinking lots of beer and wine in your basement with Shel

Floozy Walks Into a Bar

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Floozy Walks Into a Bar Toting a handbag the size of a small suitcase Because you never know Floozy Walks Into a Bar Dragging her reputation behind her And everyone looks behind her too Floozy Walks Into a Bar To test the temperature of

The Window

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Out the window, the butterflyhad escaped,beyond my perception and maybe into someone else's.The little boy with the kite stared back,wound his string,and ended his afternoon.

Inheritance

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I blame you for my short temper when I go off the handle when my blood runs cold and I can't think straight I can only react. When I say things I don't mean Even if I do. But I am glad for the fire you started inside of me. That time I…

Begonia {part three}

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Now, the Kingdom of Begonia was known for its serenity and virtue. But just like any other place, there can sometimes be dark and mysterious inhabitants.

The Great San Francisco Poetry Wars, 17

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So back to Berkeley we went, and started our own commune in a huge rented house on Derby Street where we could tear the fences down in all the neighborhood backyards. We created what we called “The Meadow.”

ABSALOM

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He was still on the ground...

Though the Heart be Still as Loving

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With my heart preserved, I shoved a handful of baubles back in its place: some pages torn from my favorite books, a bass guitar string, a butane lighter, a shot of vodka. I stitched myself back up and left the roof in favor of the attic, where I hung my s

The Promise

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Conjoined - her hardened nipple brushing, softly, against him, his chest hair caressing her skin like a thousand hungry lovers’ fingers – the perfect moment lasted eternity.

Heavy Weather

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The blue of the sky pierced her heart. She patted her lips with her tongue and turned to him. “We have to talk.”

For My F-Fellow St-Stutterers

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Funny, funny stuff. She'll be here all week--be sure and tip your speech therapist!

Her Sunday Story

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She turned on the television. The newscaster was her husband. She changed the channel. Her husband interviewing her husband. She changed the channel. A baseball game. Her husband pitched to her husband who popped a fly ball which was caught by her husband

LLC

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The formula is fucked.

The Funeral

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Over the years, Morgana had grown. She was so much more than what Xavier remembered. So much different. She had an astute, almost shrewd air about her. She didn't seem nearly as fragile as he had left her. No, she had an eye out for herself now.…

Tiny Breaths

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Fire and ice undo me. I am born again, born again through the burning ice and biting flame. Listlessly floating cinder-like on lost cusps of wind that multiply with every with every single with every single breath. Spitfire grail and…

Sidewalk Opera

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She is left feeling like she has missed a stop, that she's at the last stop, that she's somewhere she wasn't meant to be.

Another Band Name

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Hillary's Pantsuits

“Adrien Brody,” Adrien Brody, and Adrien Brody’s Nose: A Response to Tao Lin’s Response to “Tumblr ‘Shit-Talking’”

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Here is “Adrien Brody” through a Freudian lens: Calloway wanted to fuck her father. She flew to New York City to fuck a version of her father who has a name similar to an actor with an interesting nose and a lot of talent. Neither Calloway nor the actor n