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A starved hunchbacked figure covered in blanket gently steers a one eyed dog along with him. A four legged shadow serving as his longtime companion against the all-consuming vacuum of the universe. A friend for all times.A thin scar runs from his cheekbone to…
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He spends his Sunday morning spraying WD-40 through the straw-like stream attachment at the expansive paper nest of beige and ivory striped wasps.
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He says, You think too much and he grins a grin that has all of the attic keys on a wrought iron ring, on a chain.
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18951312
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But by day the birds / of prey were in control.
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2667168
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The possibility for numerous outcomes – the possibility of anything, really – lives on the writer’s page.
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12861912
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She's not a poet, but does she have to be? She comes to the reading to read the poems of her recently dead husband, for she made a vow: that she would read his work at an open mic. Now she is keeping her word. It's her way of keeping him alive or maybe it's his way of…
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A farm girl raised on fresh eggs and weather forecasts...
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24881811
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The hairs on my arm lift with the breeze; a haunting breath from the open window carrying night-scented stock from the black-shrouded garden.
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22131810
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1. a bone to pick"It seems to be accepted nowadays more than ever that killing,individual and mass killing,is the order of the day;it is accepted."--Henry MillerWhy can't you leave well enough alone just long enough for it to make its own miraculous escape…
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1788107
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Newhouse returned his gaze to his wet palm, which he lifted to his nose with suspicion, sniffed again and again, then struggled to move out from under the growing stream.
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She was as beautiful as flowers in a dream
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Papa says an adding machine tape has gotten tangled up around his legs. He pulls it off his leg, but it's really his catheter tube, so he wets the bed. I tell him he's not in a tree, and I clean it up. He tells me all about it for an hour, and I to bed.…
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19221313
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My friend says there's some kind of bug that bites its mate's head off after they have sex.
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No twinkle- so, planet, not star./
And bright, so either Venus/
or Jupiter. I’m guessing, Jupiter.
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Will it//
scare us shitless when we can finally/
draw ourselves a likeness of it?
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But if he's been photographing her for almost thirty years, there must be close to 11,000 images. During the session, they don't speak. And, after so long, words are not really necessary.
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I have nothing in me but a raw loneliness right now. It's as if someone whirl-winded me out of the sky into the middle of the ocean in the middle of the red faced night. My fate seems immobile, sealed, doomed to a rocking nothingness, like…
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15851310
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Sin by Nonnie Augustine After my mother died, I met Aunt Shirley. I found her in dozens of snapshots piled in falling apart cardboard boxes we hauled down from the attic. Small girls, with huge bows bobby-pinned right on top of…
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...there is something quite delicious about the air between people strange to each other, something that makes my skin crackle alive with the possibility of touch...
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Know what you’ll become? You’ll become one of those guys who masturbates in any single occupancy restroom that locks.
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Once a student brought him a jar of black widow spiders. Tony put it on his desk. Somehow the jar got tipped over, and the spiders got out.
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When I finally met the time broker, he sat at an antiquated mahogany desk with no computer. He looked up and waited for me to speak. "Time for sale," his ad had advertised, and I was ready to pay
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Night's air awhirl, the sky shoots fireflies.
Sometimes, she bleeds black arrows in her dreams.
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**I think Bridgestone Tire borrowed this story for a commercial. Maybe not, see video and decide.**
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9421510
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Once a psychologist told me a story
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We deny one another, here,/
as long as it’s plausible.
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Street mime in white face and white gloves, trapped in invisible box. Tip jar empty. Marcel's solo-dancing the tango now, teeth clenching ephemeral rose. Passersby pass him by.
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hoping for a happy outcome/
like a kindly voice on the line
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