June 2022 Writing

(This is an experimental piece. The repetition and strikethroughs are intentional.) Business Days Only June 24, 2022, 9:00 am ET Beyond her stirruped spread legs, the doctor recites the words from a script written by the State. He avoids her eyes as he speaks, his...

I’m attending some sort of spiritual retreat in another country, and on the last evening each participant showcases their passion in life. A fellow participant asks me to sing with her, but she won’t practice or give me the song…she just sings it once and expects me...

We Choose This She’s slurring again, asking the same questions as lastnight, the same ones answered this morning. At times, when I’ve bought the ticket and need the ride, this infinite loop is a relief—cork, pour, smoke, pour again, smoke, smoke smoke, cork, pour,...

I caught a glimmer of blue on the eastern horizon, just a thin strip, hovering above desert brown. I called to the back of the van, "Look kids, we can see the water.” I heard them scramble up on our wooden storage cabinets to look out the window.  It was the northern...

(I struggled with the prompts, then went with this)   Well over fifty relatives gather. Been a long time since the man walks into a room of this branch of his family. A withholding of sorts, mostly absent 36 years. The man carries a weight that he does not share....

Hand Rest When I ask, “Who did this to you?” her eyes barely bloom, veiled as they are, in bleak weather, no different than a smear of confused crows. When I start, “Honey—" she snaps back, “Fucking don’t call me that anymore.” When I reach for her hand across the...

A hundred pounds is too much to pull for a little boy ––Lightning’ Hopkins he’d come up from the soil of a promise             undelivered             dream deferred come up on red-soil piney woods             East Texas             skinny hard scrabble, hard toil,...

Not a Prayer Is there a god  within my hands,  is there one behind my eyes,  is there, perhaps, a god hidden between my thighs?  No, and no, and no.    Was there a god  when my sister died,  was there one  for my...

I.   passages barred narrowed like slaughterhouse chutes pinpoint paranoia bleeds staining & paralyzing into indecision an anxious buddha whispering             don’t try over & over again fretfully inactive   II.   stacking seconds like...

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