Apricot and Sienna

Her suitcase smile packs a gorgeous breath of underwire bras and overtired jeans.  A somersaulting respiration while it's snowing and the like, outside.  Dream meets cliff meets jump meets fall meets pillow and repeat, while it's snoring and the like, inside.  I hear, through undertones, hushing the heightening pace of ( Read more... )

    Singing until the piano resounds into half-broken fingers.  Tendons like untied shoelaces grazing the gravel.  Blood blooms the pedal knuckled chords.  And wallow and she and all that was.  Pine trees with coats of snow knock against the window.  And blow and scream and hide the setting sun.  He shivers his teeth into splinters.  The moon comes ( Read more... )

    Miserable girl with glows under your heavy clothes and kites tied in your tired hair.  Unwind the float in you.  Sleepless nights will not bring him back.  When people come and go there are two things you should know.  You are not responsible and you are not an answer.  And all the forest fires in the world could not smoke out the hornets in ( Read more... )

Citrus sort of cigarette breath.  Hair matted.  She wakes up in pools of neverminds.  Turns from her stomach to her side.  Blankets make amends with the limbs they are hiding, acquiesce to fall to the floor.  Saturday sweetheart, unfurled, underwear looping around the waist of her big toe.  The most beautiful sight in the world is what her husband ( Read more... )

This is the thirteenth story in my collection.

Tucked away from the door I roll my tongue on vowels and wait for her to knock.  I mean, open the door.  Or come to the window.  Anything.  I'm the one who knocked.  My eyes are burning from the sunlight because her front door is stark white.  I repeat what I'm going to say, like some high school ( Read more... )

This is the twelfth short story in my most recent collection.

Jordan the pianist is enthusiastic with what he assumes to be a brand new idea.  He has a computer program that transcribes shapes into music.  With this he outlined the curves of a standard female form and used the basic melodies to write a song that he is hoping will evoke the ( Read more... )

 This is the eleventh short story in that collection I've been posting the pieces of.

There is a fantastic scene taking place right here where I'm short of breath on the hospital bed.  I will remember this forever, though that's probably not saying much, depending on where I go from here.  Have you seen the light today, a priest asks me.  He ( Read more... )

 This is the tenth short story in that collection I've been posting the pieces of.

Her finger stirs, the café eyes watch.  She stirs heaven.  This waitress, she stirs heaven with her finger and she only waits on the best and every man here knows it.  It is why so much coffee is ordered but never finished.
    I'm leaning toward her with my elbow ( Read more... )

Of all the north west miseries I have found one here in her curled eyelashes that must be the worst, the want for, all the slopes of dawn like down, such contours as to make a great discomfort to an east coast heart like mine.  Longing miserably for the west and a shy girl with honey for hair.  Chicago will be sweet, but sunshine will not reach.  ( Read more... )

Where we were.  A patchwork pink and yellow blanket lays the ground, trees shake their pine needle arms, and the sky is pastel aquarium.  Oh God, you don't know.  Behind the cliffs that we were thinking of falling down, a caterpillar comes crawling up.  Carrying the same blanket colors.  But the butterflies aren't in bloom.  They shun us in cocoons ( Read more... )