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Henlenka
melodiousthunk
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spinach
I have so much work to do. Fuck. Performance artists knock around inside my head, demanding favorable reviews, vying for space with grocery lists and scheduling nightmares that are unfairly taking over the part of my brain that makes...the sentences...happen.
(more)
heat
The toaster oven stank of tunafish and melted rubber. The dishwasher hadn't been run a couple of days, congealed mustard glaring at her like two greasy eyebrows from once-silver door.

The shower shut off and steam rose from under the bedroom door. ARE YOU DONE YET? Nooooo, whine(more)
Teenager... | hot show... | hindsigh...
out of mind
She thought everything was set, all set, ready and packed. Neat and tidy. Nothing missing. Everything there.
But maybe she should check again, one last time. Rifling through papers on the sideboard, I asked her, "Mom, what are you doing?"
"Looking for my glasses, oh here they are!" Beaming(more)
dementia | mothers | futility
no better than
Things were not much different than they were 20 years ago. More flesh on her bones, less hair on her head, a few more initials after her name and stamps in the passport. What were those worth? This particular Birthday Eve left much to be desired as far as(more)
historical fact
There is no merit in fact. Perception is the word of God in the eyes of most humans. Hitler saw the demise of the German empire in the motivations of the Jewish bankers. The Tea Party sees the demise of Constitutional power in the presence of Mexican immigrants. It's(more)
honest lies
You know that you if enter, you will feel it.  It is not something that you think of often, but passing by the open doors on a muggy summer evening, you hear the songs and catch the sweat in the passing breeze.  It smells of home.
(more)
Religion | prison | marriage
prom date
His head grew large and heavy as we bridged the years from Vanilla Ice to Pearl Jam.  I once thought he was charming, though never cute, and he was one of the few who did not make fun of my poodle skirt on the first day of school. So when(more)
dive deeper
It's easy to sit here and pump out 300 words at the drop of a hat.  The blink of an eye.  Hell, sometimes I even do it without the inclusion of a single beat-like-a-dead-horse cliche.  But not often.
(more)
writing | frustrat... | chickens
in this container
In this container is everything that's left.  It's old poetry that sucked too much to be uttered.  Faded jeans with irreparable holes in the crotch.   It's marriage certificates forged in a memory of Paris that faded in the grey mold of a Queen Anne apartment.  It's chicken bones tha(more)
twenty-two
I knew something was terribly wrong as soon as I fell.  Flat on my stomach, I clutched at the damp earth under my hands, willing the pain to go away.  It must be proven in some scientific study, somewhere, that the more times you say "fuck" at the onset of an(more)
prescrip... | broken b... | self pit...
the stigma
"He said you stayed at the Motel 6 out on Highway 59 last night, and that you twos were fuckin' so loud people complained about you, man!  Ain't you got no self respect?"  

Shawn kicked the ground, hard, little chunks of concrete flew up in a cloud of dust(more)
sex | rape | silence
the whale
The photo was taken on May 19th, 1983.  There wasn't much she remembered about that year, other than the divorce, her bike accident on the lower east side, and an ugly white sweater with a cartoon penguin on the front.  She was wearing the sweater in the photograph.  The penguin's right eye(more)
photogra... | memory | abuse
waging war
Little blond curls notwithstanding, Marylee could wage a hell of a battle.  She'd swoop down, pin anywhere from 2 to 17 victims, plant the seed and walk away, swaggering, her efforts always well rewarded.
It wasn't easy to start these battles, but once she got started she moved on to(more)
violence | little g... | supernat...
pretending I am
"It's that goddang voice that'll git your hide in trouble, Marylee!  I fuckin' mean it, cut that shit out NOW!"  

Tracy’s ma’s scream was loud enough to be heard from four houses away, bouncing off  the corrugated metal and rising above the hum of televisions and banging kitchenwa(more)
atheists | child ab... | white tr...
mourning
He wasn't my husband.  He wasn't even a friend.  We had met four or five times, yet he still introduced himself to me every time we crossed paths at a dinner party.  So when I heard he had died, my heart did not stall out because I had lost a friend.  It ceased,(more)
death | empathy