Short Fiction and Poetry

I was on a trail. But then I was on a train. I was with the beloved. How come the sun doesn’t hurt your eyes with the brightness [...]

This is not a letter. This is a rant. This is a speech. This is a statement. I am sick and tired of making a plan [...]

I am an unsuccessful man. My mind wanders. Suddenly I’m adrift in deep, open water. [...]

Leaf of brass Barn of blood Belladonna, sty of mud Sallow field Scent of ash Marigold and heather lash [...]

O devil? No devil behind an old oak tree; no matter how much I wish there could be [...]

The sky was impossibly blue, and though it was hurricane season, nothing had appeared weather wise. Until it did. [...]

i wake up to a haze of automatic thoughts i drop a little jazz on my player suit up in my best shirt and check my cell phone [...]

I was brushing my teeth with a cigarette butt in the shitter of some dive, testing whether or not the shadow in the mirror was halfway [...]

The dictionary animals are fast asleep, as they have been all their lives, as you were told when you were told [...]

The birds fly up, The birds fly down, The birds fly underneath the ground[...] In layers of silt, beneath our feet Their feathers rustle,

Old men puff cigars as crows caw on wire, and rain cleans the roofs, spilling onto tarped stands [...]

A chicken is not a poultice even though I hug one to my chest. She followed me around all Summer pressing lawn under her scratchy toes [...]

i have piled your shriveled shells in the corner of the windowsill. my knees fused together, i let the bedsheet terror consume me. [...]

it’s springtime in the nearctic realm. another season                 among the almácigo ends, as sun shadows contract. [...]           

Canlit wild child Homeboy emeritus Frail and failing when I met him Under Merna’s watchful eye [...]

My old sled hung in Aunt Tiss’s garage like a tattered old towel. On trips North, we’d visit it like a mummy in the Carnegie Museum. [...]

The love of your life Tells you she’s had it; The old shoe will not do. She grown, easily, a size or two, [...]

The pensioned depravity of eyes obsessed by needlepoint loss of hunger for friends grasping worn leather purses [...]

The swallows of Shady Bend carry the ghosts on the wisps of their tails, dragging them to the bridge from the muddy banks of the Saline[..]

oh, but she’s a breezy, cool one today, a tempestuous zephyr running roughshod over early spring reveries of blissful meadows [...]