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Player 210
Read more: Player 210Well I had to drown myself in the sink or else I’d look foolish. The hockey team, those that saw more ice than bench, anyway, was packed into Max “Guts” Guzowski’s half bath, and I was staring at the toothpasty basin and its long black hairs that could have been his sister Nikki’s if she…
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The Trolley Car Ghost
Read more: The Trolley Car GhostRather like the placement of a parlor chair relative to the fire, window, and bookshelf, a ghost’s choice of haunt is an intimate decision requiring exactitude and not a little wiggling about. The world has few caves or abbeys left for secret lurking. One could make a cozy living between the cobwebbed stacks of CDs…
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Reservoir
Read more: ReservoirWhat does it matter that I am neglectful, when no body but mine goes hungry? What stake have you in these four ribs—and those? Do not condescend to know my heart, or that I have one all myself and more to give, or that anyone deserves my fragility. You do not, sir, so that we’re…
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Thrice Killed in Purgatory
Read more: Thrice Killed in PurgatoryAuthor Note: I wrote the following short story in high school. Let’s see how it holds up! November, 1885. “I do not pry, Miss Frances.” Priscilla Finch folded her hands, knuckles bared under fuchsia lace glovelettes. Eastern, Maude noted. Far and fashionable for an off-again-on-again camp. Since she stepped off the train two years ago, Maude Frances…
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Iron Man
Read more: Iron ManThe poet welded a word-suit of iron He thought it would keep as he kicked off the ground. Whether it did or not, what comes up must come down.
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The Fool Midstep
Read more: The Fool MidstepNeither those I choose to show, nor those I guard, I am the middle of my vanities: the shuttered form between the two chevals that curves into a swarm of selves unknown. I am the shadow sucking at my heels; it won’t let go to live a proper life. I am the leech, the moth,…
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