The Public Morgue

I slept on the floor last night, the tiny weather in the corner upset with me, raining cold disease into tea cups, throwing down lightning bolts at the floor mice, and I could feel Black Lives Matter marching up my leg, towards my injured neck, shouting about premium cotton for the thin fingers of  English […]

Reflections On “Submarine”

Climbing up the peak, past where I fell, and reaching the top.  I am happy to be alive, to think, to compose, to pull depression out of the bodies of people whom I love.  Long ropes and metal hooks are my tools and I cast them across the oceans and the deserts, into the busy […]

Submarine

She was Dutch and I met her at a party.  Holland started exploding when she left, one block of cheese at a time.  My mountain boots were the perfect match for my yellow checkered suit, the one I’d bought before leaving home.  All around us mouths talked and laughed.  There was a song about a […]

The Map Of Lungs

The old woman slept on that foggy morning of fossilized snow, fearful in her turning, and lace cloth crept barefoot down the halls, through the doors, across the Persian rugs where the cats curled The sun was banished and we waited in our dreams for coffee and hot wine My happiness blinked as I rolled […]

What We Have Left

Poetry, prose, a rip in the skin and the words are drops and little streams of red pepper and salt that add to the plastic bags of glucose, plasma, horse syringes filled with drugs and there is the flutter of critical opinion from London and New York, Paris and Rome, and they are black numbers […]

Constant Midnight

The call came, you waited every night, every day, and then it came, something from an alien ship guided by a million doll eyes What are you doing, she says, oh, nothing, just thinking about the power of trances, how they might fire cities, or help baby birds push out of egg shells Are you […]

None Of Us Will Last Long

The boys were dancing in a circle, jumping, stomping, wrapped in wool telephone blankets, round and round they went, dirt poor, lost in the moment, corruption and oppression replaced by dance The shadows caught their skin in different shades of black and grey, blue and purple, and everything was marked by candlelight in the old […]

Where The Black Trains Roar: Part Two

I originally dedicated this story to Dave Creech. We spent our early years together, and in that task, we succeeded. Green grass, old rooms, drunk in the streets, etc. Our world had no mirrors, no tomorrows. I will now dedicate Part Two to Carol Teltschick. I just sent her an email complimenting her on how […]