Then he stopped wanting sex. Then he stopped talking much at all. At his worst he’d pace through rooms and the air would adhere and follow him and all the time you could feel all these thoughts going through his head—these images of syphilis and
One albino bug crawling on a piece of moss.
It jumps, flying down onto a piece of pine.
Walking across sand and gravel. Crawls across a stick.
A dead albino moth
I fold the paper, waiting at the diner. Sip my water, check my phone for the time. The guy is late: my date, who I met online. I look out the window: the moon like clumps.
The paper has a picture of a guy wanted for killing someone in the tropics.
Scream as loudly as you can at random times, day or night, without shame or apology.
Sing the music in your head without regard to melody or rhythm. Performing outside announces your presence and asserts your identity.
Shout “Hi, neighbor!”
A couple of tall, healthy, prosperous, fragrant young Canadians, one from Winnipeg, the other from Saskatoon, in my living room tonight defending the idea of the weekend and their God-given right to play a little club music on Friday night.
The Witching Hour
The knock on the door came shortly after 3. Wooden particle board making the light rap resound, of course at that hour especially. In the days prior there had been some concern an illicit arrangement on that side of Jakarta might not be met with a
Somewhat complex grumpiness
on the precipice of a beautiful world
in a loving, magical universe
symbiotic with viruses and bacteria
Persistent, intrusive thoughts
Chemical virtual realities
Diatribing in public
The backyard garden is a fenced-in pool of murky black Jell‑O that sucks and belches up Heather’s feet as she collects its monstrous and mishappen produce into wicker baskets—onions the size of bowling balls, carrots bent at right angles, apples
She entered the tiger exhibit as one of them; licking her paws as if pricked by thorns, prowling the limited space, waiting for raw meat to plop down when and where it did everyday. the other tigers observed her as an imposter, but the children around
She was half angel, half angel dust, with eyes like coal mines that could cave in any time. Wore my dirty tee shirts straight off the floor. Wrote i love the fuck out of you in purple lipstick on the cracked bathroom mirror; keyed when
chaos in town. a viral siege
our words are wings flying across cities
you, there; me, here. us — two
above, the sky thickens
like the locust swarms of March
sweeping through Nairobi
down here, we await it daily -
as the figures roll
When he sowed, he’d been optimistic. Wow. He’d gone to the IHOP and done some seed genetics calculations on a napkin. Majestic seed genetics calculations. Now it was October and just look at that front yard. Misery. The cucurbits could best be
LOVE IN TIMES OF WAR
The air glimmers with pollen,
smog and haze. A meltdown
of the senses. I think of tanks
scurrying like mice across
the border. Armed fiends in green
bring new meaning to being
a soldier of (mis)fortune. All
When four-year-old Doug threw his Jesus Christ ornament into the fireplace, everyone in the family jumped up at once, but his grandmother Deb led the way. Deb was a retired high school English teacher with a beautician’s posture and unusually long
She spent hours looking for the perfect sink. Farmhouse sinks with enamel apron fronts, vintage cast iron with attached drainboards, stainless restaurant-grade utility sinks. She wanted a little style, she told him, a little upgrade to what had rusted