we’re always new, impossibly repeating by Glenn Ingersoll

Next to the mountain the mouse is gigantic. One star turns away from another star. The ages peel off in sheets and in sequins. Two creeks braided, two brooks knotted, a little seethe of sea. I was there for one extra. The next absence requires days of preparation. We can tease out a drop, put it aside, anxiously flexing. Has sopped up several lives, yet … Continue reading we’re always new, impossibly repeating by Glenn Ingersoll

time expands up to its panda bear by Glenn Ingersoll

The sun would not have you looking at stars. Are your half lives half-remembered or half-forgotten? You weren’t lost at sea but you were at sea. The music may be there today, curled in its little box. He only grows louder, comforted. I stopped to look at the beetle. The beetle stopped, hoping to be unseen. Perhaps it’s cheaper now. I smile, I wave, you … Continue reading time expands up to its panda bear by Glenn Ingersoll

fucked hollow by green banana dollars by Glenn Ingersoll

Too many of my bedtime stories involve a peevish Jesus. Once upon a time there was a dog. I found the dime. It was hiding at the end of time. Anger? Again? I am going to go sob all by myself, not feeling better at all. I’m just like nobody you know. Don’t be afraid. Don’t be courageous. Don’t! Another story featuring the most annoying … Continue reading fucked hollow by green banana dollars by Glenn Ingersoll

where cliffs are books, their titles deep in the mountains by Glenn Ingersoll

Where the story begins depends upon where you end up. A loaded rifle lounged beside the door, a broom inside the mask. I’m sorry I left you with the dead, the letter before the window opened. Out of hard twigs, a soft shock. The letter was rudely constructed, of scratched steel. The water in the bottom of the ship sloshed around the rose. I must … Continue reading where cliffs are books, their titles deep in the mountains by Glenn Ingersoll