Latest Submissions
Clay Pot
Clay Pot Nothing I can write can fix this. Nothing I can write will stay. Like the shells upon the shoreline that will shortly wash away. So still my…
Dig Two Graves, Part 6
The hospital in San Diego wasn’t so bad. I got warm food twice a day, and some of the nurses were nice to look at. The only part I didn’t like was…
Dig Two Graves, Part 5
Tijuana greeted me with a hot hand. Entering the city at midday felt like walking into a furnace. Everywhere, for as far as I could see, were old…
Dig Two Graves, Part 4
Three years later. My wrestling career ended less than two months after The Creature from Los Alamos wrapped up in New Mexico. Mr. Fuller put me…
Dig Two Graves, Part 3
Mr. Art returned to the set on Friday afternoon. By that point, I was sick to death of Kolb. I was too sullen and riddled with worry to talk, so he…
Dig Two Graves, Part 2
“You’re one ugly bastard, but in a cute way.” It was fourth day of shooting, and Sharon Silverwood introduced herself to me. The beautiful blonde…
Dig Two Graves, Part 1
The three people responsible for the most colorful days of my life all had the same reaction when they first saw me. “You are one ugly bastard,” they…
“This is How I Destroy You” and “Crowcore”
This is How I Destroy You Not with words or with pens or with bombs or by friends, not with missiles not with harpoons or by seeing you again, not by…
“I Cannot Be an Artist,” “Vegan,” and “Purple”
I Cannot Be an Artist I cannot be a poet, nor can I be any good. I have a much more comfortable life, than I feel most poets should. I want to die, I…
“A Life Well Lived” and “Bread and Circuses”
A Life Well Lived It’s fine. It always was, because I’m able to keep going. I can eat and breathe and I’ve taken up an interest in sewing. We had…
