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
we feed on the dead in the night wilderness of the apocalypse killed words cut throats of thoughts bullet marks on the body of weightlessness attempt at silence blade of bite the torn mouth of heaven unpacks star teeth across the surface of darkness iron milk spills over the steppe cries of dead trees dead … Continue reading No One
“WISTERIA FALLS HIDEAWAY INN – let’s make your vacation a big win.” Marigold McTaft answered the phone behind the front desk moving from side to side in her swivel high chair grinning at Furman Chase, a long-time friend. It was a Friday night in June at the ten-room motel nestled in the mountains between the … Continue reading The Wisteria Falls Hideaway Inn
I will defend the city of Philadelphia/until the day I draw my last breath/go birds/so I am ethically obligated/therefore/to wholeheartedly espouse Philly’s native son/filmmaker M. Night Shyamalan. Unfortunately/M. Night Shyamalan can’t write dialogue/and I am not optimistic that this state of affairs/is ever going to change. I suppose peaking after your first film/must feel a … Continue reading My Doctor Says I Have a Special-Needs Placenta, and M. Night Shyamalan Can’t Write Dialogue