From poetry

Baby’s First Airplane Ride

Chili powder, baby powder, clam chowder. My wife would pack gunpowder if TSA allowed her. You never know when you might need to improvise an explosive to blast your way through a damned fine dead end are words she actually said once (we were already married). Like what!? I asked, thinking surely she’d struggle to…

The Housewife Watches CNN

An accident at first, her husband gone to work, her stranded sans remote atop the treadmill, two miles still to run. And so, she watches. The volume low, she notes how still it blares; above, a comedy reel the feed below: The snow will turn to ice by morning. Senator ready to deal. And on…

When the War Found Me

I hid in high grass, resting my head on a picnic basket full of silverware and napkins, the blood purling through me in long warm rivers and my boots lying nearby, ugly and unlaced. I was digging my fingers into the dirt up to the last knuckle and drawing them swiftly out; all my chores…

Cyberpunk Spacetech

Databits jangling skullcore, overhead swing, busted box Cyberpunk spacetech wirehaven nightmaredream, Home is in a metal box, in another metal box, in space Sleepycircuit flustermorning jitterbeep Digital coffee, electronic steam Yeah, we’ve got all the tastes and flavors of Earth, baby, and Shit you’ve never experienced before – Darkshade caffeinemax brainmelter mochas, Darker than the…

Thrift Store

I walked around the thrift store like it was a museum. Looking at the details of yesterday one footstool at a time. I passed the posters of World War II era, the ones in which Uncle Sam points at me. The leisure suits as brown as new spring dirt. I found albums that completed someone’s…

Latitude

Clanking chain, the claw that snags, the boat wind-bumped beside the Bat Islands I heard as bad, chop-tossed in my bunk all night I didn’t sleep lost in fear forged from everything I didn’t know and don’t, hear anchor and think anvil heavy under hammer and spark. Say spark and I hear fat rain hissing…

Big Data

Having made sure they touch he waters the pot plants each day and WhatsApp’s a number that may still be his son’s, a Facebook quiz says that if he were a mass murderer he’d be Joseph Goebbels, and his friends enjoy his company but he feels the need to pay the cheque, he decides to…

Cold Summer Showers

River ice jamstuck bridgebent, bang crackpop. He boards his jeep then engines it alive with a twist the big clattering tit & rather than wrangle away straightaway as we all thought he might he sat there contemplating his poopec, bridgebent with his window down & pouring in, flecking his button-down shirt summer rains that somehow…

The Wheres, the Whos, the Whys and Whens and Whats

Side by side they sit in a long row lined up from practical to the most theoretical. Questions of every stripe, from quiet and unassuming to so loud they cannot be drowned out. They often go to bed with you only to awaken you in the morning tapping on your skull like woodpeckers hard at…

On Manet’s Le Dejeuner sur l’herbe

You can’t resist the humor of the notion The painting could be Burroughs’ inspiration for Naked Lunch. This cantankerous conversation with the history of art On the face of it strikes you as some kind of joke – It seems more some wag’s surgically witty snipe At the libertine French than a scene with serious…