Mind the ice, says Didi. We shuffle across the parking lot. My stomach rumbles. Have to feed the monsters, says Didi. She reaches inside her yellow trench coat and pulls out a paper bag. She opens the … [Read more...]
Let Me Tell You About the Fistfight I Got Into Last Night
My friend Mendi gave me a book by the Dalai Lama for my birthday. It has a color picture of him on the cover. The words are by him, all right. I started reading, I was sailing along at a nice clip. I … [Read more...]
Shine – Star Spider
She moves soft as moonlight, pouring across the concrete. She follows the sound of the music as it reaches out into the quiet streets. She’s been following the sound for eons and still it pulls her … [Read more...]
Inaudible
Can’t anyone just give us a straight answer? He rambles, doctor. It’s dementia, isn’t it? I see no signs… Here we go. I see no signs of… Here we go… ‘no one can say for sure.’ I see no … [Read more...]
Heebling’s Journals
The recent, unexpected passing of Charles Heebling and the subsequent discovery of his “third-floor journals” are finally shedding light on an intriguing and relatively unknown area of scientific … [Read more...]
Red Warner’s Last Painting
Excerpted from the forthcoming novel, Visual Liberties He's now had his morning coffee and finished off a bowl of oatmeal with raisins and slices of banana. From the back of his closet he digs out … [Read more...]
From Notes of an Errant A/C Man: The Secret to My Uncle’s Jalisco Style Birria – jose arroyo
THE SECRET TO MY UNCLE’S JALISCO STYLE BIRRIA i shouldn’t’ve opened my big mouth: where i’ve been accused by women of being ‘emotionally unavailable’, i make myself too available for these … [Read more...]
Chiseled in Rock
Literature is a morgue: I go there to identify my friends. One of them evaporated yesterday, March 6, 2013. The last pic he nailed through the ether toward me had his Woodstock cherry red 335 erecting … [Read more...]
“Street Corner” and “Process” – Matt Hill
A hypothetical encounter between poets Philip Lamantia and Bob Kaufman on a San Francisco street corner. Since both lived in the same North Beach neighborhood, loitered in the same cafes, and more … [Read more...]
I’m For an Art
1982 SoHo Painting can be an evil mistress. She can love you tender and she can love you raunchy, and she can rip your guts apart. When you put that last stroke on your canvas and you know … [Read more...]
Post-Zen, a reflection for Reilly
When you were put away your car had a half a tank of gas. This surprised me, because I had only ever seen you put five dollars in at a time. While you drove I would watch the dial on the odometer … [Read more...]
A Curious Stew
Silver Lake was a circus when I moved here in ‘92. By day it was old buildings with peeling paint set against lush hillsides with hidden graffitied cement stairways and morning glories everywhere. … [Read more...]
Lost Angeles: Writers on the Storm
"Lost Angeles: Writers on the Storm" is an excerpt from Jim Cherry’s novel The Last Stage. We pulled up in front of a u-shaped apartment building that opened into a courtyard, the address the … [Read more...]
One Man, One Vote
It was Election Day and the lines were as long as anyone could remember. Even longer. To be sure this was the age of advanced technology so in many places people could vote on their computers and … [Read more...]
Students: A Play by Peter Rose
The living room of a student house in London. Emma sits holding a mug of tea. Robbie stands looking out of the window holding a bottle of beer. She is twenty. He is sixty. ROBBIE:You think you know … [Read more...]
Dancing the Blues
Friday night is blues dancing in the South of Market district of San Francisco. A small studio space filled with about thirty people freely moving to the music in a way that can only be described as a … [Read more...]
from a novel-in-progress . . . .
i We backtracked from the northern path after losin’ our way, me n’ my brother, to Tempest County. We’d been on n' indian trail for three days, movin’ by night, restin’ in orchards n’ groves n’ … [Read more...]
Everything All at Once: A Short Story
I left my poetry somewhere...dropped it...didn't even know it was missing until recently. I found it tucked inside an old book given to me when I was younger from a poet with sparkling eyes. Given to … [Read more...]
Hollywood Rooftops
The ghosts of that 1920s apartment were in the air when we sat on its rooftop drinking wine, one summer’s eve at dusk. We could almost see old Betty’s skinny frame still making her way up Las Palmas … [Read more...]
Everything Must Go by Teresa Conboy
Larry was a rare one. Very nice and helpful – he would expertly fix the leaky faucets when my landlord didn’t get around to it. Unfortunately when it came to most everything else, Larry was like the … [Read more...]
