Stories tagged spring


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I used to score girls by taking them on a ride past Frauenstein, up on a hill where you could see the trees, the whole lot of them sparkling white and pink in the breeze.

The Four Seasons

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In the hotel lobby, the gold light and warmth and flower arrangements were all lies, but they reminded us of spring. We imagined happiness. We checked in.

The False Lords Of Romantic Love

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I, too, am guilty of the ancient, air-borne crimeThat for spring of woman usurping womanPerforating senses, she too winters over time. Ah! it behooves, how men like to believeThe more attractive this genome of woman is,The more dedicated will be her love. Disillusioned,…


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She was now sitting in her bathtub. The warmth of the water made her pale, rich vanilla skin flushed with the fullness of circulation as her pores continued to allow the passage of her toxins from her system.

Tea with Mrs. Doyle

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I looked at it awhile waiting for it to cool. She said, "Ahh, go on! - Go on, go on.”


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white-gray mounds persist

(This incidentally, is not political: what old people mutter when you’re not listening)

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... not really as prayer, but as close as we can get.


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Their crush moves to open underfoot a hatred for fire-colors, same when animals bed down and smell ashes dreaming,

Eating Beauty

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I'm at the edge of the garden in a white nightgown embroidered with lilies. This keeps happening without my permission; a sleepwalk, a run-away. The scent of my best perfume kneels beside me here. I sift through the soil where I…

The first sunny day of Spring

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Paulie opens the curtains in his bedsit to sunshine. And blue skies! He basks in it for a full minute, feeling the heat on his naked body.

When the Spring Dies

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T.S. had said that April was the cruelest month. J.B. Miter had always remembered that line, although with all that birthed itself during those thirty days, he had hardly understood why. But now, he thought, he was beginning to understand.

Border Collies

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The air pulses with their scent, / musty and oozing with fermentation:

Nine Months

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During this season of Persephone, / fight against the will of Hades.

You Can Remain Anonymous

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a poem about an abduction in my NYC neighborhood