Fresh rain pours into the face of the fishermen on the concrete dock dock beneath the great black sky of Wednesday here at the center of everything and nothing. It is one of those nights of storming from the West.
Tag Archives: Words
June 9, 2013
The grass needs cutting, it’s that damn season when the grass always needs cutting. Not to mention the spidery brown corpses of last year’s porch-side plants I still haven’t ripped out yet.
May 22, 2013
The well-heeled partners cruise by the brewpub window in their dark-blue sharkskin suits, or at least, suits I cannot afford. I’ve long admired their well-oiled hairdos. They must cost $500 an hour, these guys, what do I know. What do I cost?
February 20, 2013
It is hazardous to write poetry when you are tired, horny, disgruntled, lonely, in need of a lover’s ministrations or even just a session of kisses. This may be, of course, the only time, even the best, to write poetry.
February 19, 2013
It was his fourth fourth death. Not that he was counting. But he thought about it later. ‘Keep yourself in the room,’ some oracle of wise practice — was it the Zen Hospice Project? — had said. How did you do that?
December 2, 2012
So, you’ve taken part in National Write Like a Son of a B*tch Month this past Novermber. Now what! Set down to your pencils! It’s time to Mail & Deliver.
November 13, 2012
Please note these important addendums to National Write Like a Son of a B*tch Month in order to further your success and rescue your so-called self-esteem as a writer who, like, actually writes.
September 6, 2012
So, it is Day 5 of my Facebook Fast for the month of September. And I can claim no high moral seriousness or report any breakthroughs. But I do see into my neighbor’s window.