Short Fiction and Poetry

The woman’s hair was brittle and grey, as she lay in her quiet bed. Breathing in the fading day, Soft, weak, shallow [...]

I finally figured out the spice I did not Like, when I was a kid, and grandpa Would hand me spaghetti [...]

Enveloped in exhaust fumes slate-like formations wait for light to change her carbon dress his face of ashes [...]

I’m writing with charcoal in a field on fire because fields burn to burn [...]

The voices around her shout their woes. Her whole house Quivers The walls begin to shake Melancholy breeze pries its fingertips [...]

The war within me rages still: An endless ebb and flow, high tides and low A riptide of dangerous, clashing emotions [...]

jupiter's digestive tract: small solar system and one kuiper object [...]

I used to know who I was. Today I’m just another adult. There are a lot of us. Adulthood makes for an easy scapegoat [...]

Far below us, I can see the barrel cactuses on the side of the plateau, and he drags me back wordlessly by the neck away from the edge [...]

cotton candy and carnival rides, stretched across the boardwalk tides [...]

While at the day care lady’s picking up my daughter after work, one of the moms, Kathy, is telling us about an accident [...]

We sketch our realities with great Care, filling in details that are perpetually Smudged out [...]

On the map, now, if you can find it, south of Ypres, it’s Sint-Elooi [...]

The maidens all line up, row by row. Sew their mouths into smiles and while away the afternoons near the riverbed [...]

There are no words Because words can lead to death [...]

A prophecy says the sea will drown clouds Disarm them of thunder and lightning, Of heavy rains, hail and snow [...]

Gravity pulls on a feather as much as a bowling ball, but other things get in the way, slowing a feathery descent [...]

We jinxed ourselves to the marrow of the night, never to catch a wink of sleep, I am no fisherman, you whisper [...]

consider the dad joke: a corny response to a trivial ambiguity (hi hungry, i’m dad ) [...]

Long after darkness first strolled out to play, we cut the torches, possibly to sleep, convinced all other lights were slunk away [...]