Apex Magazine
We were too old to playhide & seek,so we added a handicapand did it in the dark.The game turned grimas you counted out loud—I trod softlylike the newly blind,groping aroundfor...
Poe Twist: The Tell-Tale Heart, by Edgar Allen Poe
We were too old to playhide & seek,so we added a handicapand did it in the dark.The game turned grimas you counted out loud—I trod softlylike the newly blind,groping aroundfor...
in the Blacksun Nebulashe gave mea string of mooncrystalsin cool ambersand the rogue purple–pinksoflost starsI wore them to bedandin the showerfor twenty lunar yearsand to work in the rocket yardswhere...
Before My Father Vanished
in the Blacksun Nebulashe gave mea string of mooncrystalsin cool ambersand the rogue purple–pinksoflost starsI wore them to bedandin the showerfor twenty lunar yearsand to work in the rocket yardswhere...
The trees are alivewith possums, mice, rats.I’m sure of it. Out on their night hunt, you tell me.I shiver. You are still, at ease. Doors, passages, you say,they’re everywhere. Where...
Doors
The trees are alivewith possums, mice, rats.I’m sure of it. Out on their night hunt, you tell me.I shiver. You are still, at ease. Doors, passages, you say,they’re everywhere. Where...
When the Devil’s in Nashvillehe stops by Third and Union, late,after the bars close, where someone always offers half a beerat the feet of Chet Atkins. The Deviltends to leave...
Sympathy for the Devil: A Duet in Two Solos
When the Devil’s in Nashvillehe stops by Third and Union, late,after the bars close, where someone always offers half a beerat the feet of Chet Atkins. The Deviltends to leave...
In the dark she sings,She holds my hand tight in hers:Limbs tender, voice soft.Clouds part, the moon shines uponGreen skin, one too many arms.
Night-time Visitor
In the dark she sings,She holds my hand tight in hers:Limbs tender, voice soft.Clouds part, the moon shines uponGreen skin, one too many arms.
I suppose there must be extraterrestrialswho, among the plethora of UFO specialists,are cattle mutilators, aliensfor whom it is always harvest season,each bovine an overflowing cornucopia. They spend their hours slicingtongues...
The Grey Cathedral
I suppose there must be extraterrestrialswho, among the plethora of UFO specialists,are cattle mutilators, aliensfor whom it is always harvest season,each bovine an overflowing cornucopia. They spend their hours slicingtongues...
Ghost or angel, you never leave me. You cinch my waist like the skirt of scales I slipped out of. Breathing becomes labored, like gulps of air a swimmer takes...
Sonnet 29
Ghost or angel, you never leave me. You cinch my waist like the skirt of scales I slipped out of. Breathing becomes labored, like gulps of air a swimmer takes...