Yesterday you ask him to mail a simple postcard and he drops it in a puddle. When he brings it back to you it’s soggy like an old cracker dipped in salt water. Always this way with him. He doesn’t want to act responsibly. He doesn’t want to be your man. If you had one ounce […]

“It’s time to move the chair,” said Grandma, matter-of-factly. I knew what she meant: time to put the old green easy-chair on the curb, the one with the saggy seat and fraying arms, the one which smelled of oil and sweat and Old Spice and also old age and even faintly of forbidden cigarette smoke. […]

Tonight you brought up masturbation in reference to a Chuck Palahniuk book but then failed to describe what you did last night, or this morning, whenever it was. I slammed a beer. Full flavor. Nothing mild about your cigarettes either. You said no one minded if we lit up, but then we held our cigarettes […]

In the Not-Writing, he had a notion: he needed to protect time in order to make life. But the Life-Made always wanted to stop before he did. The knife above the cutting board, and wouldn’t it rather be suspended, mid-gesture, before the pepper beneath it was split?  At least that’s what the story thought. It […]

Then the anxiety which had been floating around definitively lands on his mouth. It becomes a small black hole. He feels himself being pulled in. He reaches the back like hitting a padded wall. He bounces off and lands in a pile of letters. As he thinks: “This is a pile of letters,” the letters […]