Foster Foolsrite
Foster Foolsrite is casually dismissive,positively when he doesn’t need to be Foster impugns prudence, defensivelybecause all about him is corruption,and
The Mind Shook Fits with a Pen
Because I couldn’t type deliberate and preciseI took it upon myself to say,myself to myselfso there wasn’t any confusion,all of
The Hero and the Chorus
Tragic hero, coupled and juxtaposed with chorus you are witness to your transience and continenceyou are a formation of structure
Waking Mind
Waking Mind You clank when you walk, as if you were a rototiller on edge tearing ditches into public roadways
Dead Shoes
I step in dead shoesclay feet with toes of stoneI stand and pause between pacingsa refugee from the referee who
Who said I Could Fly?
The man on the drug ad looked as though he were made up by a mortuary cosmetologist; walked like a
Stuck in a Groove
I was born in the mid 1960’s in the second largest city of any state in the midwest. I was
A Parting Shot from J. Arthur Quibblestones
I can’t speak for woman. I am not woman. I can imagine being a woman but that would be only
Friendship From a Godly Farm Man
I gave you my friendship, spared you no dime. shared my spirit unselfishly and overlooked yours for years. And when
To the Slaughterhouse
No one is home, or maybe they arethey’re just not answeringwe cannot connect fingersacross the electronic divide data mines data
Eddie Sees TV Faces
Eddie sees TV faces when he looks at us. When he sees himself in a mirror he sees himself on
He is Standing Next to You in Line
-Old but a “when are you going to grow up” old. That’s what he is. Still light on his feet
Thick Books of Poetry
Thick books of poetry are dauntingseemingly taunting from behind their coversraising phrases that could’ve been yoursbut pushed by others we
Symbiosis
I tilt away from hearing her as she explains her nature as though it were a theatrical arrangement to a
Of Raw Quality
I am an onion beneath the surfacea bulb petrified by the flashI think myself into faceinto attentioninto mass reflectioninto oblivious
A Stepsister’s Funeral
All it is is flipping the visual around to the other person’s perspective. That fear and anger with which you
Average Means
Like every aging manI think about the things I would do or say different if given a do overthe others
Conversation Between Two Characters Who Wish Not Be Defined as Self
Ooh, I get so mad I could scream; and I do! Yes. Everybody else too. No. Everyone doesn’t have the
Wound to the Clock
Blinded by the clockcounting dollarsindexing worth to secondschained to interestworth in existenceI am an hour Everything I say or doleaves
Etiquette in the Theater of the Absurd
This is a dream. Life. It’s a pathetic dream. Everyone to some degree misappropriating words to belong and out of
Folk Song
Some justice is whore justicebecause more justice is wrongI am the neophyte plebeianposing as exemplar, dredging syllables into songI take
Life Without Money
Hello, I am a representative of the future and I am in your dream because I wanted to reveal life
Living with the Entertainer
“My mother says you don’t want to live with an entertainer because entertainment is something you’re supposed to be able
Awakening the Lyrical Poet
I am waiting for the computer, the very old computer to fire up. It is a homunculus given a spark
I Am a Ghost that Causes So Much Ridicule
I am not mentally illI just see stuff that no one else seessays almost everyone occasionally You are mentally ill,
Dionysus and Apollo
Dionysus as woman, Apollo as Man.Apollo as woman, Dionysus as man.Woman and man both Dionysus.Woman and man both Apollo.No exit.
capital Address
I am an I for the sake of addressthe capital I all that comes afterbeing sequential because to explainto the
Confrontational “Style”
My brain makes uneasy the things my eyes allow in I think my agenda is my own but my existenceis
#38 The Confessor of Littlefield: Farewell
Author’s note: this is the concluding installment of the serial novel, The Confessor of Littlefield. The story will be reset
Half Way Home
Santa Claus is coming to see me and I’m only half way home…Gary. Gary!What, dammit!“?”Uh, sorry. What are you doing
Misreadings
Context. Inner dialogue. Individual narrative. The private hell. This brain map A Being becoming. A person in his mid fiftieshaving
Normal People
Why can’t you write about normal people; why does have everything have to be crazy with you? I don’t write
A Congressman of Equal Weight
“Those who make antithesis by forcing words are like those who make false windows for symmetry. Their rule is not
#32 The Confessor of Littlefield: In the Footsteps of Our Fathers
Bill was called to the scene of an auto accident late one unseasonably warm December afternoon in 1968, and when
#29 The Confessor of Littlefield: In the Service of Little Men
John advanced in the army corps through three years and became a second lieutenant in an army guerrilla training unit
#28 The Confessor of Littlefield: The Communist and the Evangelical
A year after Bill quit school to work as a farm hand full time Hiram asked him to help John
#20 The Confessor of Littlefield
Bill Dinklpfuss sat up, his bed shrieking like an awakened banshee. The floor boards beneath him creaked as he settled
When You Judge
When you judge is it with wisdom or ideology; a punishing, judgmental ideology based on ancient theocracry? With your convictions,
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