to My son before I die

Take me from this bed, your knuckled curtained hands the fear the dread, for I have none of that. Throw away the flowers, for I am not yet dead.

Take me out to lie again on the Earth
if there is any left
and let me paw the Earth like the Animal I am
here I lie, and She is warming to me.

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Hush the forest. Hush where the bear was, the deer have been downed. Hush my screaming heart.

In the kitchen where I am carried after my father's death, I ask for one shortbread cookie filled with jam as my mother Connie smiles around like the carousel she is of feelings. I want to sit in the dark corner and think about the bear mauling him. My father Claus, lying on the needles and still.

I ran into the woods and Meryl knocked me out. Unintentionally, I was fighting him as I would a bear. He cried onto my suede, he...

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In the event that you perchance upon a mythological entity, and said entity or, dare I say, entities, have desired coconuts, the directions for capturing said coconuts is as follows:

Step 1: Determine if entity — say, your brother — is malicious in intent, or simply a selfish flesh-eating neanderthal.

Step 2: Break his ankles, or perhaps if you feel lucky, both pinky toes.

Step 3: Steal said coconut, bash open with rock and/or machete.

This of course can only work in aforementioned mythical kingdoms. If your brother is Pelops, and you are Tantalus, then you are fully fucked. Perhaps...

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"You know why girls suddenly change their hairstyles don't you?" He leered over my sister with that gap-toothed smug-motherfucker grin. "Girls change their hair every time they make a major change in life. Like pigtails right before or right after a break-up. Females actually believe this changes them as a person."

My sister giggled, which is my favorite part, right before she undid the top two buttons on her blouse, which is my least favorite part. "You're so right," she said. She kissed him, hard, right before she saw me peeking under the door.

She scowled at me, but she...

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"His thoughts are too scattered, just give him a moment to collect." This advice within the high pitched laugh of a well-meaning mother. The tour guide had simply meant to ask her son a simple question, how could the guide know that the son had no intention of answering?

"Well." The guide sputtered, looking for a simpler way to ask the stubborn child with almond eyes if he liked the zoo. Finding nothing suitable, he reached into the cage behind him and pulled out a red snapper. "Here, hold it."

The child held his hands out and mewed with delight....

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He knocked the three knocks. The two rap-raps. He whistled like a wren. Then he knocked twice again. The flight attendant replied, "Captain. Pick up the phone. I'm not playing your games."

"Oh come on. Just reply with the secret knock. It's easy."

"What is it you want?"

"To go to the restroom."

"Ok. Punch in your code and I'll punch in mine, and we'll get you to the lavatory and back."

She punches her code, her hand on the handle. She waits. "Captain?" She hears three knocks. Two rap-raps. A whistle like a wren.

"Captain. I'm a grown woman....

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dear bobo,
happy birthday! i am sorry i missed it, but i hummed the song for you this morning while we convoyed into the city. i think you're eight now, but it's hard to keep track 'cuz you just seem so big and grown-up each time i see you.

mom tells me you got bit on the neck by a spider the other day and that you haven't been feeling so great. she says maybe you're not having a birthday party this year 'cuz some weird stuff happened when you first tried to go back to school after getting sick....

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I looked at my fellows roommates and had to suppress a giggle. I know costumes are supposed to be in jest, but we had really gone over the top. Plumage of chicken wire and silly string. Stilts and dinosaur arms.

Yes, it was that time of year again: Beer Mile.

We collected on the campus quad, shivering in the snow, awaiting the stroke of midnight. Ding Ding Ding...The drunken co-eds began their semi-annual drunken naked/costumed romp in celebration of the end of homework.

What else could be the source of such merriment?

As I rounded the corner of the field,...

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He'd spent hours in the living room, with a stack of tapes and the home theatre system, recording, rerecording, and generally keeping the neighbors awake. "It's sort of loud in here," I said to him.

He spent hours scrambling around the house searching for the sharpie to label his mixtape. "This will be perfect, if I can only finish it," he said to himself.

Unable to find a sharpie, he ran out the back door, grabbed his bike and churned off into the night.

I hopped in the car and followed behind at a safe distance. He stopped off at...

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There isn't a thing you could do to make my situation better.

You people like to think that you could change my lucky stars if you wanted to, as though you are angelic beings who can pluck we lepers from our squalor and dirt on a whim. If I cared to share with you, it's likely you wouldn't believe my story anyway.

The world is a bigger place than you would ever imagine, with an expanse of experience broader than your mind can fathom — neither bad nor good, but certainly considerable experience.

I have studied astrophysics, Shakespeare, and written...

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