I was born to attend The Pembroke Hill School, but the honor was denied me owing to a swift investigation of my grandfather, the handsome Headmaster of Pembroke. They found him guilty of fucking all the wives of the filthy rich Pembroke Hill School Trustees: rich and stupid men who believed my grandfather to be … Continue reading THE FEARFUL 6TH GRADER
BLACK AND WHITE AND BLUE
The traffic light up ahead changes from green to yellow, then to red. A cascading series of brake lights light up in front of us. Maggie lands on the passenger side mirror as we pull to a stop. He appears to be out of breath. Well I said come on over baby, we got chicken … Continue reading BLACK AND WHITE AND BLUE
MONTAGE
The French Trees of Cinema french girl blowing her french smoke in my anglo-hungarian face as I think about montage as an answer to this life a different kind of flashlight asking after the reason for things a whip of proselight darkstill brainlost in mexico under the french trees of cinema flowering with red beetles … Continue reading MONTAGE
PRE-PITCAIRN
Sable-haired Fletcher Christian stands arms akimbo above the ravelin of Fort George amidst earthworks of umber loam and fellow Bounty mutineers, his unshaven whiskers charcoal on bronze. His tunic, pearl shell buttons complementing blue richer than the South Pacific sky that darkens to indigo as it meets the horizon, lies crumpled where he flung it, a … Continue reading PRE-PITCAIRN
MOSAICS OF PREMASTICATED MEANING
He begs for the gaping maw of this gray-matter sky to expand and coat even the voided region of his vision with an acrylic layer of apocalyptic haze, shimmering thanks to the lure of oblivion summoned from a weekend technomancer's simple prayer, whispered for the sake of conjuring a terraforming storm of sufficient size and strength … Continue reading MOSAICS OF PREMASTICATED MEANING
“THE BIRDS”
I am in solitudein the mood I like bestthe crucifix gazesbreathlesslybirds brush their feathersagainst the gilded cagein a stirring endlessscene of agitation You are against the pale walllike a portrait I frame you you take hold of meand I am blinded by white light we are a flockdifferent from the rest you elude me more … Continue reading “THE BIRDS”
A SOMETHING WALKS INTO A BAR
He sits hunched over, bar stool. Room dim, lights scarce, his arms resting at the table he’s hunched over. He walked in. His shoes are gray suede. Socks tightly bound to his ankles, leaving their impression. Pants tight around the waist, white, creased when first purchased, but the crease faded as years went on. A … Continue reading A SOMETHING WALKS INTO A BAR
SINATRA FLIES TO URANUS, EATS A PIZZA
When he was in his very good years, the music came effortlessly. Or so it seemed. The voice sang true, and it was filled with emotion, with love and sorrow and jubilation. But in the autumn of his years, what was once nice and easy turned labored and unsure. The man searched about, lost for … Continue reading SINATRA FLIES TO URANUS, EATS A PIZZA
“NIGHT-IMPS”
This glass in my handCompels the Night-Imps to drownThemselves like poets.Quiet as light it happens;They don't even sing death-songs. There aren’t many left.They refuse to take up space.At best, a mouthful.Tonight it’s easy to watch.Tomorrow, just agony. I want to save them,Since they came to save me first.My hand is shaking.Is it my insides they … Continue reading “NIGHT-IMPS”
“INSULARITY FREAKS ME OUT”: AN INTERVIEW WITH GABRIEL HART
This interview, which was conducted in December 2021, was originally intended to be part of a book-length nonfiction project I wanted to write about the “niche of outsider lit” that I found myself in that year. Now it seems like a handy time capsule for that unique moment, cross-sectioning the literary microculture through the lens … Continue reading “INSULARITY FREAKS ME OUT”: AN INTERVIEW WITH GABRIEL HART
APOCALYPSE CONFIDENTIAL 