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The moon begins to rise over L.A.
while the roaches try to crawl up
the sides of the mountains surrounding the L.A. Basin.
While fires rage in the forests of the night,
here comes the moon over the horizon,
big and haunted, pock-marked and coo
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“Too dumb to live,” my wife said when cretins on a motorbike blasted around us nearly taking a side mirror with them.
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I find Vermeer and Bach and feel/
for a moment a shower of my own world’s/
prismatics.
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Men aren't good at these kinds of things, my mother tells me. She states it as if it is a scientific fact.
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Mr. Blumberg and I sat side by side on a small couch in the family room. He was watching a football game on TV.
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the boredom inherent in living in the suburbs
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of any cautionary tale is somewhere found rolling around in your own sweet voice for me. Your sound's still listing there inside my wobbly head. My head is too often in my open hands, grinning behind its face-mask like a parade on…
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My father owned a penny arcade. I worked for him every summer all during my youth. My job was to hand green tickets to customers who achieved a certain score on Skee-Ball or shuffleboard. The coupons could be redeemed for merchandise which we had on display on…
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It is true that the college dogs spread vermin, reeked and shat on the soccer field...
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He picked at his food. The teen-aged boys gnawed the bones. The conversation was nothing he was interested in. Chitchat and family jokes.
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War Stories #1The Germans didn't like that theJews had such beautiful women.War Stories#2There must have been a war between the good witches and the bad witches. It's the only thing that would account for such troubling times.Woman With Yellow HatWhy did…
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I didn’t like her. I like the name. You know I hate that name. I always thought you were funny. Maybe even more than you were mean.
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Years later he surveys this place again to post something, anything. He plays "sex on fire," sounds that once fueled him. Now he knows the song is about VD, not unbridled potency. Names and words all seem at once familiar and numbing and noise. He once wanted fame or…
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There are stories I will not tell, stories I shudder / to remember. You'll forgive me for withholding them from you. / You may, of course, not tell me everything about yourself either
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I looked around in my pantry but there were no sentences I felt like cooking.
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But THIS is what happens when you collect genuine reviews. I began with a list of 50 of the greatest books of all time, according to the compiler of the list, and then went to a list of some of the worst best sellers in recent history, [scroll down] and t
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In the morning, I lay on my side and ran a finger down the girl’s back, lightly tracing her spine. I remarked on the whiteness of her skin.
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I bit her ear and /
it was burnt toast
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When I got out I didn't buy a new suit of clothes, step into a bar, or bargain for an hour with a whore.
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Nothing about it//
is attractive- its color, it’s design,/
it’s market value. I leave it be and watch
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the tall, thin ectomorph sat
on the verdant, green grass
as the unclothed naked woman
on the Sunday-picnic blanket
poured white cow’s milk
into a vodka shot glass
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“Hrrumph!” was almost audible as she turned/
to sniff behind the chifferobe for fresh/
green trophies.
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We left Louisville two weeks after daddy died...
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A brief colorful season/
and then the fall as winds/
break the hold the leaves have
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I call upon all cashiers in dungarees...
I call upon the baristas in rags...
I call upon those whose
sinister principles tax the weakness of their conscience...
I call upon all those deracinated by dreaming big...
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On the bus Jenna looked out the window at the bleak fuckscape.
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Names are forbidden here. So is apology.
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