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Tweet I see a woman with double chins, both overgrown with a downy blonde pelt, as I drive south on state route 90. Darker hairs, spangled through the goatee, are stiff and perpendicular to her face. She coughs, belches—something— some full-body spasm sends pink debris spraying. It becomes flocking for the glass and dusty vinyl . . . → Read More: Fat Woman in an ’89 Camry Tweet The collar of a washed and washed, charcoal black rock and roll tee is torn out, exposing her shoulders and back, all covered by a tattooed line drawing of an angel that looks like amateur calligraphy. She claims to be skilled enough to read an aura from five yards and knows that Rider-Waite is . . . → Read More: “She Understands & Is Proud” Tweet Shh. I have lied and said “I love you” to more women than there are fingers to count them upon. Imagine that. If it was done with a harbinger’s hope of heralding more magic into our world, am I less a villain? (2003) Tweet When I get there, she’s already on the couch under an electric blanket, propped on six pillows. The velour cushions are slick with sweat. The lights are off and they are to stay off. She watches TV and, in a hushed aside, without ever looking at me, tells me that she’s done it. He’s . . . → Read More: Abortion Tweet I’m able to stand on the wheelchair seat when someone calls me idiot. My head stays on, hypnotist still, neck no longer damp pasta, as I articulate my indignation. I never remember what I yell, only that they are terrified. Poor souls, didn’t know there was anything within me they didn’t need to pity. . . . → Read More: The Palsied Boy’s Dream Tweet On the occasion of learning that Baby Jessica—who enraptured the hearts of the nation when she fell down a Midwestern well in 1987—is now posing for adult magazines. Like Odysseus, she saw darkness that the living are denied. The bottom was a permanent evening, treading water with Charon. When they hauled her up they . . . → Read More: Five Modified Haiku Tweet All the brightest minds and intuitions swore and asserted that it was Phlogiston that allowed a wick to burn and burn despite downdrafts. This invisible ether, the motive power and contained fuel insisting on the everglow of flame. They told the children of this. And phrenology, too. Later, it would turn out there never . . . → Read More: Phlogiston, Phrenology, God Tweet I am the Shame of the race. The red cheeks and hot ears of a thing yearning to turn away from itself. A disappointed Misanthrope witnessing unwillingly. Waiting for the day, the hour, the minute, I can close my eyes, my ears, my mouth; hold my nose and pull on gloves. Then I will . . . → Read More: Each an Aspect Tweet When I leave the bar I swear I’m steady, even demonstrate by touching fingertips to eyelids. “See,” I say, “fine motor skills.” So you let me go and I drive forty minutes on empty predawn freeways, all the time fighting dual urges to throw up, pass out. I’ll wake up behind the dumpster or—best . . . → Read More: DWI Tweet These days, I have so many clocks that when the autumn evening came, it took thirty- plus minutes pushing, turning and twisting before all of them were adjusted, in agreement. When I finished, it was officially the past and this year, that’s when the idea came. If I did the opposite, sprung forward, every . . . → Read More: Daylight Savings |
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