But Lorne, feelings are tawdry, aren’t they? Accessible to everyone. We have one word, and we agree together on what it means. How often in trying to praise you do I curse the vehicle by which I express my love.
“The Blacker the Berry”
Let duende guide you to Kendrick in real time: his hot breath in your ear, his hot spit on your skin. His voice about to shatter. Do not let him. Let instead his air become yours every time you listen.
Stand cold and barely clothed, dark moon touching you through the window. Think of your new walls, their bare sockets aching for bulbs. Consider your every possession.
And so, when you have working eyes, and are desirous only of beauty, sex with a beautiful woman is doomed to be empty.
“Figs” in the Spring/Summer 2015
Issue of Isthmus
Now, it had been decided: Billy would have the insulin coma therapies. After all, he was getting serious with a woman, the summer touring season was over, cold weather was on the way: the timing was right. Just two months of injections, and Billy would be normal.
I plead and submit to total ignorance on the subject of bird-keeping. Before taking on the bird, I had never even considered the possibility that someone would. I imagined pet birds being a step above fish, akin to hamsters or gerbils you take out of the cage when you want, forget about when you don’t want. I had no idea I was taking into my home a rabid, sexually adventurous two-year-old.
An All Too Real Reality:
Green Lantern’s Ghost Nature
For those who see nature as a friend, let alone a guide, Ghost Nature offers such a triumphant dismissal. No, the fact of climate change is evidence enough: we were fools to perceive the natural world as a shepherd. We were fantasy-makers, idealizers, privileged mythmakers slapping a happy ending on the circuitous “circuitry” of chaos.
“The Mythology of the Wife” in Volume 7 of The Delmarva Review
2014 Pushcart Nomination
The wife’s orgasm: a blue room so endless she finally had to push the husband from it.
2010 Pushcart Nomination
She tries to avoid the slice I hold to her mouth by staying flat on her back and lighting a cigarette. I wrestle it from her fingers and she turns to the side and curls her legs into her chest. Her cigarette in my mouth I reach over and across her back, hold the piece where I imagine her lips to be. She bites. Pulling back I see the nibble is only the size of my thumbnail; I want to punch a hole into the wall.