Sexy Poetry

            Marg dances. Old sagging bones shudder, rags as well. I opened my door for this?             I invite her in, but she pulls me outside. I don’t want to go to her apartment, but that’s where we are.             Marg is a hoarder. Every part of the apartment is full. We travel the maze,…

Pickle

            Anne wasn’t hit by a bus. She was standing still, staring at a painting she didn’t give a shit about, when her eyes glazed and she dropped her purse. It took Don five minutes to realize that something was wrong, to remember that Anne didn’t care about paintings or museums. Anne only really cared…

11 Fool-Proof Rules for Writing Fiction

  If you haven’t noticed, I’m a writer. I only bring that up because it took a while to give myself the label. It’s funny what you can call a hobby. What is a hobby anyway, and when does a specific activity stop being one? ‘Hobby’ sounds like a disease, some kind of growth. Well,…

The Delicate Art of Self-Seduction: Born in the Bowels of the Most Commented WordPress Blog Post Ever

As some of you may have heard, Art from Pouring My Art Out is out to break the record for comments on a single blog post: http://pouringmyartout.wordpress.com/2014/01/23/this-is-not-a-post-about-this-post-this-is-about-breaking-a-record/.  He will respond to any and every comment you make there, sans fail.  He will have the last word on everything, I promise. I’ve been over there a…