You hit me / like Boal / hit women. My love. Imagine my surprise.
Midnight. The minute hand clicks to the right, underscores the hour. Outside second story tenement, a car passes through puddles, beams of light passing over bedroom walls, ceiling. The tick tock of the clock. The scratching of the mice. 3 am. Guns snap in the alley, there are moans. Quietly close, and lock the window. Grip … Continue reading Some Growth
...my best writing is usually sarcastic. This also comes easier. Like, this... Or, this. Mostly the summary in that one. Which is probably best.
Who do I admire? Who inspires, teaches me - who blows my perceptions apart and offers me new ones? Not confessional writers. I don't find memoirs, or poetry that's purely about the poet, all that interesting. A Winged Dream was likely the last time I'll get that personal, and it was more about me getting … Continue reading The Master Stroke Against the Memoir
Was not my name Ishmael? No. Martin Burns. One of them - not the farmer turned wrestler, nor the cataloguer of the hard stuff. I mean, that guy? That one? He could study the reactions of inorganic salts in solution of isoamyl alcohol. Me? I'm squishier - more prone to lack empathy, to ride mood … Continue reading A History of the Electrochemical Society, 1902-1976
My lover hiccuped as we wrestled across the room, repeatedly, until I was forced to ask them "Was it the bacon, or the salami, that set you off so? They told me neither, that it was something one of the kids they taught had told them - Elijah or Joshua or Isaiah or Jesus - … Continue reading Sandbox Cassandra
The old transistor radio in the corner buzzed, hummed, crackled with static. The orders came in, children reciting numbers. "Defriend them all - no quarter" The easiest were the fake ones, barely protesting unlikes and blocks. Some old friends from grade school kicked a fuss "You have the funniest posts - can I subscribe to … Continue reading Taxonomy of Nobodies
The helicopter had circled the soccer field repeatedly. It was military, we were pretty sure - That puke green color that stands out so well against blue suburban skies. An airman poked his head out of the side door (I don't know what they call that - that door. On the side.) He squinted down … Continue reading Now and Again