Three Stories

By - Apr 6, 2018

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.

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Louise Nevelson

By - Apr 4, 2018

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.

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Edge Players

By - Apr 2, 2018

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.

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By Fiat of Adoration

By - Mar 28, 2018

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

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Fragments of Jekyll and Hyde

By - Mar 26, 2018

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.

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Sweeney Frogs

By - Mar 23, 2018

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.

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Yes, This is Esther

By - Mar 18, 2018

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…

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excerpt of Temporal

By - Mar 12, 2018

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.”

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Two Prose Poems

By - Mar 7, 2018

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.

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Grief

By - Feb 28, 2018

People say there is such a thing as grief.
I will tell you about grief.
Grief is a few flinches a day.
Someday you’ll get over it.
When you die.

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Our Lady of Bleak Hearts

By - Feb 26, 2018

Shaver crawled through the broken windshield, sluggish as a drugged lion. Slowly more of him cohered. He spat another silver crown and tried to regain his land legs, relearning to walk across all that brown flatness.

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A Moral Point

By - Feb 23, 2018

Have you heard the story—about humans eating humans? No. Not about the famine in Russia. This one happened long ago in Japan. An old woman was eaten by an old man.

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