THERE IS A TOWN in Central Europe where I have spent some time. For many years I enjoyed strolling down to a café nestled under a large willow tree. I especially liked the old wooden furniture which I imagined must have been perhaps 200 years old. The walls were painted a dark green and lighting … Continue reading Can Furniture Affect The Soul?
The boss who expects more of you, is a small mammal, facing up to a bigger world. The people you love, are small mammals, living on a small blue rock, floating through space. We are thousands of miles from where we started, and no idea as to where we are going. There are no adults, … Continue reading Small Mammals
On break, I walk the dirt trail behind the library branch and sneak a smoke. There’s some wild blackberry brambles back here, too. I pick some berries off and annoy some birds because they want what I have; I want what they have; we’re all some sort of screwed up animal with a weak wing. … Continue reading Gutting A Blunt
I ate a can of sardines by the Gulf of Mexico— tin peeled back like a tongue. I felt envious eyes in every hinge of shell that would not close. My heels burrowed into the sand as if I, too, were something half-willing to be swallowed. The sea and land spoke over one another like … Continue reading Snack
IT ALL STARTED three and a half weeks ago when Trudy died — four days after my tenth birthday. One day our beloved family goldfish was swimming in her fish tank, her long translucent fins swishing along behind her, then the next day Trudy was belly up, eyes grayed over, her beautiful fins never to … Continue reading Trudy
Cornbread crumbs cascading Down hairless, burly chest Honey butter eulogy of afternoons Spent in-office Steel toe boots untied by the door From nights alone prodding factory floor Infants snooze in cribs or with wife I bashed a mouse’s skull in With the Pioneer-Woman’s bread knife Standing in the kitchen naked Feral & Australopithecan — RON … Continue reading Mouser
KELLY LOOKED AT THE DARK BLACK SHADOWS swirling along the inside of his right forearm, repulsed by their symmetry. Wisps of gray shading traced the sharpest lines, adding dimension and depth and… despair. Two weeks since the last drops of the ink were driven under his skin and his tattoo was all but healed. But … Continue reading Age In
For nine long hours I believe that swallow is a prisoner of the air. It did not knot its tie this morning, did not read its paper. Nowhere in its soaring is one clue as to the cold razor cuffed across the chin or the bland kissfrom a wife.There's no sign aboveits tree branchesthat says … Continue reading The Swallow As Seen From A Factory Window
BERNICE NOTICED THE TUMOR before Stan did. “What is this squish?” “Don’t worry, I’ll never have tits compared to yours.” “It’s not your tits.” The tumor spread up Stan’s chest and wrapped around his esophagus. Four times he checked into the hospital for what he called platinum milkshakes, which brought on vomiting, dry retching, then … Continue reading Ashes
When you unearth a corpse and it’s still fresh, and you see it writhing with maggots and larvae and nymphs moments from exploding into flies remember: this is their home, and you’re as much a disturbance to them as they are to you. Imagine the revulsion of a salesman stepping into your home unexpectedly, on … Continue reading Remember