Tag Archives: story

Scarring

There are stories, chanced to be heard in silent scars– listen with your eyes. Advertisements

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Metamorphosis Variations

I. As I awoke one morning, from a blue-dark night of drinking and uneasy dreams, I found myself transformed into a cockroach. Figures it’d be a cockroach, skidded a deadpan between a head full of swollen thoughts.  With newfound prehistoric … Continue reading

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Hot Pockets by Lamplight

(Excerpt from Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale) I climbed the stairs to the third floor, where Jimmy’s apartment was.  When I got to his door, I knocked, not expecting an answer, and not getting one.  I turned the knob, expecting … Continue reading

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The Phantom Itch

(Excerpt from Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale) There’s not really a name for what I do.  I am not an investigative journalist, I am not a private eye.  I am not a minstrel essayist.  There are many things that I … Continue reading

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Storyless

There is no story greater than the one you don’t tell yourself, silence and lighted space inviting wonder and mystery to pool at the center of who you are beyond facile descriptions and prior claims.

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Claim

We slowdanced in a house of mirrors. Some of the mirrors had been burned in fires and showed black. Others were webbed in cracks. Still others bore dimensional distortions leading to instant surrealism. When I asked her which of her … Continue reading

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The Lion, The Mouse, and Me

There is this small piece of glass an unstable irritant at the back of my heart way way back a shard that got lodged there god knows when and lately in considering and reflecting upon this bit of glass and the … Continue reading

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Confessions at the End of the Tunnel

   It was the very end of our relationship, when it was past the point of ever being good again.  We both knew it but neither one of us wanted to say it, because that would mean letting go and … Continue reading

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Babytalk

(Story from Freeze Tag.) I had been dating Jeannie for two years and had been living with her for the past six months.  We had a place on 31st Street between Madison & Park Avenues and we could afford it because, … Continue reading

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Jean Rhys

You held the islands in your eyes, where it rained and rained and then the sun warmed wet to a wafting hiss. This Jean, you, the feline slink, filigreed shock, and sinewy comb of whitelaced waves ruffling upon puttied blobs … Continue reading

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