Looking at Aquaman

Something nobody warns you about, when you get very sick, is that you have to be polite. You have to be Emily f-ing Post every minute of the day,

Sloth, That Wicked Siren

Why he stopped showering, no one could say for sure, though everyone had their guesses.


“Kill me,” he pleaded, not exactly in those words, but clothed rather in the language of assisted suicide. He had no right to ask that of me.

A Brutal Sweetness

Last night my breath changed from quiet to labored heaving. We all wonder: will this be my last bath?

In This Skin

“The difference between a good butthole and a bad butthole is the wink.”  This is the best man talking. 

Off The Page: Bon Voyage, Charlie

Ryan Duncan reads “Bon Voyage, Charlie,” a story by Dan Pope


Dotty Adams remarked that she hadn’t known there were any Jews in the neighborhood. Some people wondered if the men in long black coats and broad-brimmed hats were Goths, like those boys at Columbine.


The ants climbed up the front of Macedonio’s sweater, circling the buttons.  They arrived at Macedonio’s chest, interested in a yogurt stain.