macserp

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryPeeling LA: Part of an Urban Artichoke Series macserp012 years 1 month ago
StoryTony and Dawn macserp012 years 1 month ago
StoryTony and Dawn macserp012 years 1 month ago
StoryMy Endemic macserp012 years 1 month ago
StoryNotes From A Reluctant Love Nest macserp012 years 1 month ago
StoryPutting On the Gleam macserp012 years 1 month ago
StorySnorkeler Down, High Adventure in the Yucatan Peninsula macserp012 years 1 month ago
StoryRiddle macserp012 years 1 month ago
StoryNotes On a Good Time macserp012 years 1 month ago
StoryRevenge macserp012 years 1 month ago
StoryMiracle Body macserp012 years 1 month ago
StoryThe Rotten Bridge, A Gypsy Love Story (novel excerpt) macserp012 years 1 month ago
StoryInterstate 40, Poem (Cycles I-V for Joe M.) macserp012 years 1 month ago
StoryHappenstance macserp012 years 1 month ago
StoryHeliotrope macserp012 years 1 month ago
StoryFade macserp012 years 1 month ago
StoryThe Undoing macserp216 years 4 months ago

My stories

Cherry

Heliotrope

Heliotrope. Today I came to the place where I buried you. It is a fragrant perch and this year after all the rains tadpoles swim against its twisting shadow. Wild fennel clings to the banks

Notes On a Good Time

I think about my life at the Chicken Dorado Or the California Donuts. I spend a lot of time in L-Malls In east Hollywood these days. I even drink in one, Imagining my life As something gritty and essential- Living in the open street with the Crazies and the workingman, And myself switching between them.

Revenge

There is something in the air when she leaves the room and you let fly the hem of your dress, crossing your naked feet under you, setting your hips into the couch.

Miracle Body

too short really for that

Chapter 14 from The Rotten Bridge, A Gypsy Love Story

I take a seat in the pew, again feeling lowly and unworthy and naked in god's house, but I don't try to hide my thoughts - apparently there is no use. Instead I let my eyes wander from Saint Theresa to a couple of the students who have gotten out their notepads. I like that they are so full of it, sketching away with excitement, their young pale flesh trembling, their soft curves pressing into the marble altar. What a time in their lives I am thinking to be given all this, well ahead of the rot that sets in with age.

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