I went out before light, left you naked at the door. I left you aching. I ached, too. I went into the softness of...

Sleeping on Otis’ Floor

“Goodnight, asshole,” John says. I see the meaty ghost of his shadow collapse below street-lit window blinds. I hear him thud. He groans like...

Blog Post One

Chlorophobe-in-Chief I detest green— wear dark-tinted shades to alter trees and grass to nickel lead. I am amazed...

Blog Post One

        A small New York apartment living room. “NASA has announced,” he says,...

Blog Post One

  Stage 1 larva, bipinnaria shaped like guitar picks. Stage 2, brachiolaria, big-whiskered slugs. Stage 3...

The Fog

I had an experience once, riding in a Buick and winding up in San Francisco. It was 1962 and I hardly recall what we...

Grab Bag

Bike Night


Blog Post One

The Commodity of Speech

Blog Post One

hurry it up, Desdemona

song for amanda