We never saw the pump that drained the lagoon. We only saw fish, drowning as fish. And when the tide broke over the sand bar, the fish rose like rafts, and there were terns — so many terns — then the grey iridescence of scales under moonlight. Image: Carlos Galindo on Unsplash

After the Storm

I could not help but stare at the moon’s last quarter, tangled in mesh, seined, pursued then quickened as Saturn and Jupiter remained still and some ways off. The driveway is littered with branches, leaves, and the dirt bitters of worms are acrid-wise — commonplace. The cracked Earth swells, maybe becomes whole again. Image: Dave... Continue Reading →

The Mobbing of a Bluejay

While I stand in the green functionsof the back yard, silent, except for the frictionsscraped by the clouds that promise not rain,but torrent, a gaunt bluejay peels into an appletree and a harness of robins descends to furyit quickly away. I see this and the remainsof nettles I cut yesterday, limp, like oldrags that refused... Continue Reading →

spider in the bathtub

She hung there, below the silkwith a bundle. Later, a hunk below the faucetremained, drained and quite empty. My coat hangs on a hook,husked and silver-fishedon the thrash end of a string, raggedas ignorance and just as ill-cautioned. Too many turns, this earth,cloud-cocooned and sucked belowthe spindled legs of our mother. She waits there, black... Continue Reading →

The Audit

I thought I had scurvy,turns out, I had bad oral hygiene. I went to a psychic fair,paid fifty bucks for a spirit animalI could have gotten from any carnyfor twenty dollars in darts and balloons. I bought a shave and a haircut on my birthday.I was twenty five and learned Capone had big eyes,playboys never... Continue Reading →

To the Laureate

Such applause — the revelation,the confession — the renamingof Betelguese as a wife’s black eye. Would that I spelled my name proper,that I, once told and brief forgottencould achieve such bandaleered laurels, as to divest with certain and grimexposition, the foibles — the guts of it —capered and rinsed, full well knowing the paintthat hides... Continue Reading →


There are big words forbig ideas — but,there are small wordsfor everything else,like face, like eye, like lip.Like quiver and tear,there are small sounds,both long and short-waved, pronouncementsinto the flesh of things,like shrug and turnedaway. There is goneand pang and thunder,not fully summedin squandering, andhalf-lived in regret,as if chained was littlemore than an entry,some fiscal... Continue Reading →

Chapter One

So many tales beginin an alley, perhaps,in the rain. A plump ratembarks on a foray, havingplumbed the stink pit of a dumpster,the color of which isindistinguishable from the surrounding brick,puddles, stripped sky, the narrow tube —all that you would expect to findin a tale that beginswith a night, with an alley,with a dumpster, with a... Continue Reading →

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