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Unsaid

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whistling some blithering tune, trotting around the kitchen in his underwear with his ribs, a long row of meatless tragedies that screamed for something other than the meal he was making.

Scrawls From My Blue Period

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The following was written under disagreeable circumstances, in that I was present for them.

How to Survive Your First Breakup (Anxiety)

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And don’t you dare start panicking. Just sit there silently, letting the truth that you’re alone sear the back of your neck until it starts to feel cold.

Like the Goats

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...

This Isn't a Title, But I'm Fingering Your Mother, While You're Sitting at the Computer, Reading This.

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[ETIQUETTE ... DECORUM ... BOUNDARIES ... BAH!]

destiny

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destiny

The Pocahontas Forgiveness Goes Viral

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You generated coal light from your gait as easily as the new sun crawls through a sleepy forest, without worry over hot spillage, or who might be horribly blinded or grossly revealed or given visions in that rare moment of wet earth and…

STONE

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Man waters Earth with his eyes.

The Planet Will Erase Us

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We control/ nothing.

Oh, Clyde. I must be your Bonnie.

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This is the best kind of crime scene. Spattered like gore from gunshots, I'm left covered in trace evidence.

2006, What I Wanted

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freedom from my mind

Future Imperfect, a Jeremiad

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the birth of a long, dark age// where the wealthy will be eaten by the poor/ and the poor will be eaten by disease

Souvenir Des Choses du Passé

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Let's say maybe you're in a place your mind has never left, and let's say maybe it's Mississippi, and let's say maybe it's summer with kudzu throbbing green all around you, and let's say maybe she's a Sagittarius girl, standing in that driveway with her young breasts…

Breathless

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I sit down next to a youngster on the couch. “Would you like to see?” she asks. “See what?” I reply....

Shoot the Moon

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Neither of us thought of real winning. We set about brilliant losing, dark angel forms of luck and greed, the desire, the craving, the need to lose so strenuous that one wins; we tied at thirteen.

Three Cigarette Stories.

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My mother is private with her grief. Since my father’s death last year there has been almost no talk of him. When she got back from the funeral, she put his clothes in boxes for Goodwill, and rearranged the furniture in the den. She won’t discuss what

now

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koalas burning

The Secret

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Of course then I did it all over again. Got married, that is. Fortunately, this one worked out.

Charlie Rose Chats with Mark Twain

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It could probably be shown by facts and figures that there is no distinctly native American criminal class except Congress.

Armor

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She remembered the feeling of weightlessness, of being lifted against gravity, the soft whoosh of tulle...

April

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A riot of greens

Daily Bread

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A little poem about prison

Then, But Not Now

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The one-legged crow was back in the yard again today, as it was yesterday and may have been before, but yesterday was the first time I noticed it among the murder while using the binoculars that I often use to bring things closer, things like these iridescent and beautiful…

Live Oaks

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Neither/ evergreen nor exactly deciduous./ And soon, a yellow residue of pollen/ smearing hoods and windshields

For Rent: 116 Writers Block Avenue

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There's a special block in the city, nestled between Mutant Town and Trump Towers.

All his things

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All the things that are his.

Folly Island

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I knew a girl on Folly Island who took showers in water so hot her skin blushed pink rosettes.

Here She Is

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Indeed, it was quite likely that no one in town had ever played either of these games. The townsfolk were not big fans of word games, though they did enjoy Whist and Canasta.

Neatly Creased Newspapers

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A thin line separated her lips, like something sketched with a pencil.

Reversal

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The stunned son knelt to understand then fell, his heart shredded by the hollow point.