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November 2025
Snow has come early, mean air, mean slush. What do you want me to do, dance? It takes a stronger man than me to dance in this grim. It’s a bad day, so this is all I have. I don’t want to rebuild myself. Odd shapes, stickers, tape. We must be magnanimous in our writing,…
October 2025 Mix
Aster season is over. These native asters have bushed out in the back yard, and in hot September bloom with bee movement, a wavering, psychedelic landscape. I do not like large, showy flowers. I prefer multitudes, coin-small, a wealth of pennies. Summers are itchy, puffy times for me. I’m not stricken by allergies but am…
September 2025 Mix
I’ve written four book-length fiction manuscripts over the course of my life. The first two are embarrassing but the last two are wonderful—wonderful dead babies hanging from my belt that only I can see and smell rotting away from indifference. I don’t understand the culture. I never have and never will. I’m too dumb and…
August 2025 Mix
I’ve exiled myself to the penal colony of jangly Australian pop bands again, thanks to my degenerate music tastes and the Algorhythm. Right now, it’s The Belair Lip Bombs. Summer is totaled, the evening light exquisite, but so, so melancholy. We know what’s ahead. Bars close early these days, at least here in Omaha. Kids…
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Jim Kourlas 