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I grew up in a big house in a town called Shlongbucket. I know: the name is unfortunate. Shlongbucket: it defies poetry. It is neither dactylic nor iambic; since it comprises the word bucket, emphasis obviously lies on the buck, yet the shlong stands up and demands emphasis itself. Despite […]



I remember the braided scar on your left shoulder where a wing could have grown. the way you would retreat behind the trenches of your bedsheets before the hail of tears tracked your cheeks. the snails on the pavement never did make it, their shells cracked like bookspines under our […]



I’d concealed the brogue prior to it. Let me speak for a few minutes; I won?t be long and I need to tell this. Every bloke in my bar as a rule tries – demonstratively – to act tough, though of course they never have to go through with anything. […]



Why you hate apples and taking the train home He can’t see you through the keyhole because you don’t fit into a fucking keyhole like the sheets that don’t fit your bed, with coffee stains and blood stains you’ve grown up years ago you learned algebra, you forgot then someone […]

An Indolent High


My brother?s friend Carlos refers to Barcelona as a “giant orgy that no one is invited to.” He’s staring at me with those yellow eyes, waiting for a response. I smile, nod, and lean over to take a look at the city. We’re on a terrace with a panoramic view. […]