In the windowless laundry room that doubles as my bedroom, Cellar fills me in. “Stevenson’s brother, last night, a junkie, hanged.” I holster the Windex Bottle I stole from the supply closet at work, and say, “So that explains it.” Then I sniff my cleanest dirty t-shirt again and deem it worthy. We go. Back out on the stoop with Stevenson, I raise my ... Read More >
It was my guy Keith.
I used to drink and smoke weed with him when I didn’t have a job.
‘Crazy Keith.’Read More >
I am going to bring a great deal of criticism on myself.Read More >
The crows have all gone north. Coyotes stay out of town. Insects are slow.
Behind the house, other side of the fence: the breeze.
You think of luxury, of cholera in faraway lands.
This is the math that the shameful fail to see: Those who feel no shame can also feel no love. They may feel other things, but love is absolutely denied them.Read More >
I reached, and he was yawning, this huge yawn, mouth gaping unselfconsciously, and somehow, before I was aware of it happening, my hand went straight into his open mouth.Read More >
He is flowering in a doorway
Eyes cheeks haze of hair
Stepping out of time into here
This is what we really have
Who see the one we adore becoming
The two that he is in the light
He believes in his ability to control who he is, but he can’t control who he is; he keeps becoming Hyde, more and more frequently, as if, once he’s started, he can’t be anything else.Read More >
It’s summer time, but I’m down in the red like a peasant. I say ‘Wouldn’t you like some more wine’ to myself and drink straight out of the bottle. I look in the mirror hanging on the wall and my eyes are slits barely opened. I could have been born an avalanche but I am just a person with shaky hands.Read More >
Each hand resembles the mock pistol that people mock kill themselves with sometimes, hammer thumb and barrel fingers, and right now, frankly always, she feels like mock killing herself, mock ending it all right there at work in front of everyone…Read More >
I woke up to a bunch of shuffling and banging coming from upstairs. Then Cody’s dad, Larry, full-on burst through the bedroom door at six in the morning, still in his briefs, yelling, “Sam, Sam, wake up! Your folks, their house is on fire.”Read More >
I feel like a five-star restaurant, but I am a fish. I feel like an ethical imperative, but I am a listicle. I feel like an aesthetic, but I’m wrong. I am a listicle.Read More >