My dick, summarily belittled displaced evicted, is not yet quite dead it rests on cinders mildly agitated My tongue a s...

      Hey. (To my voracious reader from Redmond, Washington. Please email me or leave a comment.) I am curious.

happy new year

the yule on the hill For those who still frequent the bleachers, however sporadically, you may have noticed there has been a cull on d...

The little classroom smelled of energy. Fizz. It was not a smell, I don't believe, immediately familiar to those adult bodies squeezed...

I went to a place lit nicely for recovering nuts. They played ping-pong. Some of them frequented an arts lab where one might safely ...

"Completed May 31, 1963, the 8.27-acre Bronx development is bordered by Schieffelin Avenue, and East 225th and East 229th Streets....

In deference to he who shall forever be dubbed the good doctor of double-jointed prose, I seriously toyed with the idea of shaving my hea...

My ear comes unglued on a feeble but persistent druming on the front door seemingly, a doll's voice uttering guessed at sobriquets. ...

Composed by William Correa (Bobo), Melvin Lastie.  Recorded at Van Gelder Studio, Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey. Produced by Creed Tay...

Fig. 1 (deleted) Pablo flicks his tongue like a checking pencil. Convinces himself the tooth is more or less intact. The girl in t...

some seriously good writing, here .

Composed by Serge.   Arranged and orchestrated by Jean-Claude Vannier.  Produced by Alain Hortu. ▼ JANE BIRKIN: KAWASAKI from ...

▼ THE BRIAN JONESTOWN MASSACRE: KID'S GARDEN from "Spacegirl And Other Favorites" Candy Floss (CF009) (US) 1993

Dr. E'weerd Yijji, allegedly, is a teacher of Asian Studies in South Carolina. Prior to this he lived in Bangladesh. Aside f...

He possessed a hacking cough. The kind of cough which cuts one off at the middle. Empties one's chest through the mouth and nose in g...

Before he met with his aneurism, I came across him at the foot of our stairwell. Seventeen years old and me already feeling the strains of s...

The air in the narrows makes tidy museum pieces of rotten fruit, spilled fluids. Oldenberg. Jackson Pollock. Shriveler's Bl...

Last week I found a bristle growing out of my ear. Standing straight on top of it, where it might taper up and out. If one were a pig. It ...

And so, it was fear. Of the unknown. Rebuke. Siblings. A hesitancy to wander too far outwith the chalked silence, in the end. Of sm...

Engineered by Mike Ross. Produced by Cyril Smith, Mervyn Conn.  Strings arranged by Keith Mansfield. ▼ THE PEDDLERS: ON A CLEAR D...

Recorded at Studio Decibel 1971 by Torbjörn Falk. Macbeth is introduced headlong to the Underworld, by way of The Third Ear Mage. A...

They leave the tree out on the pavement. One January. Well. They leave it lying there until the weather turns for the better. Bringing flie...

I am hurtling past rooftops, chimneys in the company of Jesco White, Hasil Adkins - heads lolling, spooling drool - when we hit a fork in t...

Throb. His jaw aches. The tooth - lower eleven, molar - threatens to shear off with every jarring step. Has been this way since P...

Blame it on Tillie. The Pep Boys. A refugee from Asbury Park. Retired. Residing in the armpit of a tattooed driver in Santa Rosa. Or Dr...

Like Vachel Lindsay - bowler hat traveling under ice - she approaches me on the stair. A complexion, too short in the kiln, the consisten...

The madwoman's face reminds one more than a little of Antonin Artaud. Under a dyed black beehive. After the teeth ca...

Sunday is the cleanest time for slipping through picking at stitches, the damp laundry of mourning sheets an afternoon drizzle High ...

Overtaken by a weakness to bludgeon the house senseless with a royal flush of dubs, the stairwell echoes with the whisper of melodica. A ...

The afternoon sky in my window darkens every day about four. The crows invite me to reconsider the uneven ground of our back lot. Undul...

She rises late from bed, lidded irises chased by shadow. It is a little after 5PM. You listen to hot needles rain down on her skin. From ...

Saturday. You revisit " Cain's Book ". Trocchi was in his mid-thirties, you have read, at the time of its completion. A rel...

It is Sunday morning. Again. What begins, innocuously enough, with coffee and cigarettes has me waving in coordinates less than one hour ...

EXTRACT: STATEMENT FOR THE DEFENCE S38 (1) [FUC EWE 2 8 − 1 ] The submission ought not to be regarded, by any means, as an admission ...

I press my nose into her belly and open my mouth. My nostrils filled with long dark hairs. Scented by musk. Damp not with arousal, but conf...

I fall out of bed on the flat of both feet and weave to the bathroom. The Shaving Mirror. One glance is sufficient to identify a welter o...

You're going to regret this. What ? You're going to regret this. I'm going to make you cry again. What ? Shut your f...

At which point does mere bickering simmer into something more heated? At which point do raised voices - agitated, rattling tea-cups - boil ...