Stories tagged prose

Our Organs Settle

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I can feel his large intestines against my stomach when he is on top of me, like a fat cat on an old couch.

Ode to a Pouting Lip

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This ounce of glistening flesh protrudes like an inmate grasping past the bars.

Swan Song

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He ignored his scalded scrotum and listened intently. The music was beautiful beyond all physical pleasure or pain. The end of the piece gave him a deeper understanding of the expression 'la petite mort'. While he was still recovering, the next track b


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The wind whistles steadily past like a train. Past the garage where I sit in the dark with a cold cup of yesterday's coffee, smoking a cigarette I thought I'd given up. I look out at the back yard, brushed with snow and painted by moonlight. There's a dark patch of…

Stream of Unconsciousness

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In his dream, he was choking on an ice cube. He didn’t know what would happen first — if it would melt or he would die.

To Skip A Stone

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My brother and I always set to wander the fields and wet our heads in the irrigation ditch to cool off. Sometimes we would skip stones where the shade hovered thick and the water drew wide on Willow Creek.


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Some books are like old friends and when you read them, you no longer feel alone.

Daddy, Can I Have A Puppy?

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Dad must have walked around with me 20 times, the store closed around us and finally he said I could have one. They were all in different poses and sizes, with black spots. Except one. One had silver spots.

A or B

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... we lose ourselves in the animal noises...

fire and ice

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“Who says?” she purred in reply “They all do” he countered smiling , chewing on an ice cube “All of them, huh?” She leaned forward, raising a wicked left eyebrow and whispered, “And just who are they, anyway?”

White Noise

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I don't like listening to the radio anymore. Nothing is clearer than a live voice with something to say. Give me a big field with no one around but the birds and I will send the bees away from me. I will deny all bugs to buzz.

Migraine Dreams

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I walked the desert of the sun. Light was the sage, the Joshua, and the wild grass.

The Parade Path

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Beautiful, a country left abandoned by the parade path. The soldiers that typically occupy this place, temporarily removed to neighboring lands; congregating together, backs to the native. I benefit from the accidental diversion.


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The door shuts slowly to something that’s allegedly mine and it sits there and waits until I come home just like you.

The Hollow Affronts, Internal

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And it's a tough thing to become a father, a contradiction; guiding a child to avoid the things that you know about so well.