Monthly Archives: August 2016

The next year when I returned to my grandparents’ place Walt was hanging out with Sven the jerky kid even though his name was fucking Sven for fuck’s sake. Last year when Walt and I had been hanging out reading … Continue reading →

I just read a fuckton of poems about sluts because the Internet. So many are defensive about being sluts are accusatory are self-righteous. None were directional. I don’t know where the sluts are and the poems I read didn’t help … Continue reading →

When we speak of presidential candidates that are lying racist fascist fat fucks, we compare them to the worst creatures from our imagination like, say, a monster made of shit bound together by the tears of the evicted and the … Continue reading →

Like the painter with no eyes or an actor lacking tongue or a quadriplegic racer or some flightless waterfowl I am missing something. That thing feels important in its absence but its identity is difficult to pinpoint. Perhaps it is … Continue reading →

I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this important issue for months now. The time has never seemed right but I think we can wait no longer. This is a problem that must be addressed before the sun sees … Continue reading →

When the old man was done raping and killing and thefting and generally having a blast, he wanted a place to refresh himself and restore his good humor so he went to his old home which he had razed decades … Continue reading →

The house across the way has a ceramic owl on the roof to scare off birds too stupid to know that that owl is no predator. It can’t fly. It doesn’t hunt. All avians are safe from its painted talons … Continue reading →

Everybody’s talking ’bout first world problems and third world problems and problems with four letter worlds like Mars and Uranus but I’ve been considering recently the underworld problem and i think I’ve arrived at just the way it should go … Continue reading →

There is a buzz seeking incessantly to escape from behind my lips beneath my teeth beside my tongue. A truth wants out. I do not understand this thing that needs to fly away leaving my body and entering the air. … Continue reading →

On the grounds of Bauman’s torched General Store, where you could buy candy or creams many years back, stands a park. Hans once living beside the burnt store in the abandoned town is the man who built it. He no … Continue reading →