subjugation, not safe
subjugation wait, i can explain -- i used to be feral, chewing raw meat with sugary teeth, sucking on a carcass during sleepless nights, trying to fend off boars and …
Poetry
Leonard and I had laughed hard first, then with trepidation, when Caroline, at five years old and in …
Short Story
My mind is blurry when I write. What is writing, where does it go, I do not know.
Essay
Sunny And now the sun appears – an arrogant schoolboy staring through my window – What am I doing? Just looking.
Poetry

Recent Titles

Birthweek of a Hikikomori

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Web Features

Tube Light
Daylight, bright but not too bright, like it is on a cloudy day, a soft white with bluish …
Short Story
ON THE RADIO
On the drive home, NPR is talking about the earthquake in Turkey. It’s been all over the news for …
Short Story
You, Me, Magnets, and Methamphetamine
Anytime he sees a magnet, he runs his finger over its surface and glances at me. A boy …
Short Story
Con-fession
In seventh grade, the year President Ford pardoned Nixon, Vinny and Lou asked me for help. A request …
Short Story
The City’s Guts; The Beach; The Chariot of Surya
The Beach Smooth grey pebbles lie among the shingle like sea eggs on hard orange and yellow chips of glass Only the high spring tides wash up to …
Poetry
2 poems
La Diva La Diva Who is La Diva not you bathrobe between the legs in the shards of shattered mirror stuck in tufts of red shag but La …
Poetry
Participant; The Heat; A World of Good
Participant Four women from her choir meet bi-weekly with my wife to sing: still strong sopranos, one alto. They do show-tunes and reminiscent rock, interspersed with raucous laughter; …
Poetry
Happy Hour
Nick Flowers was a fifty something loner, a dreamer who slogged through life with a Tom Waitt’s song in …
Short Story
Three Poems in Conversation
1. Johnny I drag iron-heavy skin down streets with foreign names.
Poetry
ADOLES-NO-SENSE
pheromonal? Zeusian grok: outa (I thought) lotta blue sky a lightning bolt surprises you distracts radar from what I had presumed an ability to navigate these …
Poetry
An Almost Miss
An Almost Miss Gripping our raft, with rope burns, blistering hands, under a blinding, searing sun. We float along a churning river, while Father Time draws a constant line and …
Poetry
A Country Called Boupha
On New Year’s Eve they met on a notorious street corner that was familiar to her. They might …
Flash Fiction
My Parents Visited Us in Guangzhou
My dad’s brows knitted in displeasure. As our guest, he curbed his temper, choosing instead to embark on …
Flash Fiction
Under the Wig
The AC for the Judicial Annex to the Proudie County Hall and Public Records Building was on the fritz. …
Short Story
Moments of Fluidity
There are always leaks. Sometimes during the early morning, Patrice’s skin seeps through every pore, even before Jacques …
Short Story
Rock Bottom
I am at the bottom of this bottle but love is nowhere to be found. The rocks spiral in the glass, illuminated by morning sun shade on me fool me …
Poetry
Magic Slippers
He climbed the steps of a multicolored storybook Victorian house and shuddered. David Benson was worried about how …
Short Story
Masks & Figures
So on the eleventh or twelfth day finally get out to the street action carrying a small burst of …
Essay
So Slowly Goes the Day
Which of the torchless roads calls his name? The Emperor's head of trivia announces the death of choice.
Short Story
Love’s Nightmare
I didn’t know it was you until it wasn’t. I didn’t know pain until you left me, face down, wallowing in a deep ocean of my tears You …
Poetry
To The Survivor of a Tattered Mind
The keeper of my heart and fallen dreams; the tormentor of my shattered soul I need you to stop erecting mansions of doubt in my mind ... to …
Poetry
Portion Control
I must ration my (affections for you so I do not gorge myself on heartbreak (all in one sitting. I must spoon feed myself morsels of time, so …
Poetry
The Preacher Before His Time
He thought he knew these people. Through the lens of his cracked shield needing a wash to better shine …
Short Story
How to Love a Rotting Thing
BEFOREI was the one they called to the morgue to identify Davis. My phone rang just as I was stepping out of lecture hall.
Short Story