Ceremony Enough

A poem about being happy with what you have


Temporary (Permanent)

(photo credit to Robert Couse-Baker via flickr) I'd just been down the street helping Justin. He was (shirtless) that kid in the neighborhood who was nice to everyone, so I offered to help him fix his bike. He asked me to (stop staring at him) grab the little oil can from the garage. It was unusual to find …

In One Breath

A cop informed me that my son was both homosexual and dead. Shot at a bar he had apparently haunted. “Will you accept the body?” the cop asked. A thousand bats’ wings pulsed inside me before I said "No."

Drakkar (A Noir)

"Darling Jesse," she says—her voice is a bassoonist playing in the back of a concert hall—and then she ashes her cigarette into a waiting urinal.  The wide brim of her sun hat and her five-o-clock shadow obscure her face, but I recognize the mole on her right bicep just below the hem of her puff sleeve. "Where've you …

The Art of Distraction

“SO IS THIS WHAT YOU DO HERE—make Rube Goldberg machines?” Jacob said, after I’d spread string, scissors, plastic cups, and a few small peg boards across the breakroom counter. He was sitting at the table eating a sandwich and fries from a styrofoam box. I watched as his paisley tie dipped into ketchup. That's how new he …

The Chemical Cure

The doctor jokes these injections will give me powers like in the comic books—that when I'm sorted I’ll slap away bullets for a bird—but my cheeks still flush for any right fit bloke. My gaze still clings to square jaws.