one of my first

publishers is retired and living in France. he’s on his second wife and lives on a farm in the country. every now and then he sends me these long, long e-mails talking about the wine, the food, the people and how much he loves his life since he ditched the first wife, gave up writing and moved away. in relative terms he’s on the near side of rich... i...

World Class

I. Substitute Teaching In America, acting is frowned on. People are looking for passion. People want to know how much you care. They expect burn-out. Two years of hard work is all anyone can manage. You give your all; you’ll be a star. They want you to put yourself at their mercy. Then crash and burn. Everyone understands. The...

absence

sometimes strikes like a bat slicing through the dark with its wings cunning and weightless cutting through like a blade tearing the flesh apart exposing the bones this terrible void staring from the closet lying there, between the clothes slowly sucking at everything like a vacuum whispers that a voice a mere voice could restore order and you reach for the sparrow and the butterfly knowing they will...

Mall of America

In America, even the old are expected to work. No rest for the wicked. How true. Even in retirement, one goes to bed exhausted. There’s no relief. We all are required to pump our own gas. We used to buy our clothes off the rack. Now we sift suits off the floor. There are no...

Mixed Blessing

And now for your entertainment, all the way from eternity: THE LITTLE SHITS. Back with us from touring the globe, with headline performances in Fiji, Bahrain, Albania, and Tbilisi. Expect nothing and you are bound to find it. Turn to your neighbors, offer your hand, and ask, male or female, why their public hairs...
I need to fall asleep to the thought of a pretty girl the world is gross and doesn't care the TV mutilates my vomit comes out before I can get to the toilet it's always time for my pills people get out of their cars like assassins but the pretty girl brings toasted English muffins...

Blackout Sex

you could break a bone you can’t see I decide it’s worth the risk after hours of blackout boredom maybe the candlelight has gotten her in the mood too but how to go about asking hey I’m really bored so you wanna have sex with me? the neighbors will probably hear! don't knock the candle over!! I...
another fucking boring night of light blue ripples of poolwater dumb white lights over steam haze black night snooze and what's left of the cheap beer my wife's been passed out for three hours I drank the good wine in the sun of the afternoon that feels like a thousand days ago I'm listening to some lounge chair...

Blank Verse*

I’m asked to ignore too much…look the other way. In fact, I should call my poems empty poems. “Never-mind poetry,” that’d be a good name. I’ll write poems about nothing. Poems that say absolutely nothing but say it well. I’ll write poems like Rothko’s paintings of voids, great hollow, pulsating works of art, undulating existential...

Regrets

Those who say they have no regrets are fucking liars & the people who believe them are fucking stupid. Regret free, fucking liars lie to themselves because they are so fucked up they can’t tell themselves the truth— that they are in fucking denial about being pretentious liars & fucking cowards afraid to admit they regret their fucking actions & for being so stupid. Do I have regrets? I could go...