A little girl asked her father to make her a horse.

Her father became a scientist and built a mechanical horse with a silver saddle.

The little girl said no, she wanted a real horse.

Her father became a biologist and created a live horse from a petri dish of cells.

The little girl said no, she wanted a unicorn.

Her father became a sorcerer and conjured a mighty horn upon the horse's brow.

The little girl said no, she wanted a Pegasus unicorn.

Her father became a father and said she would have to do her chores first.

I flinched as her delicate fingers curled around my thumb. Such a fragile movement, filled with so much need.

I chuckle to myself.
Little did she know, it would be her little finger I would be wrapped around for years to come.

And where did all that hair come from?
Golden, just like her mother's.
But those green eyes, those are mine.

My heart melts as she sighs, deep in some dreamless sleep.

God, I don't know what I did right ...

But Thank You.

she likes to keep
her adoring fans waiting.

but tonight, it's only me
lying on the bed,
and watching her
in the mirror,
while every stitch
in the closet falls
into crumpled little piles
of unfulfilled promises
at her feet.

it's a hell of a show.

"Congratulations! You've ruined Christmas!"

"Hey, I don't have to take this from you! I'm outta here!"

Zipper snorted and tromped through the snow into the woods, leaving the scowling fat man and the other seven reindeer to repair the fiery wreck of a sleigh. The woods were dark and cold, but he would do just fine. He'd show them all. Make them pay. Then they'd be sorry.

"Dasher, you're on. Grab your gear and harness up!"

Zipper teared up as the fat man's words carried over the wind, but he never looked back.

We live in a critical world
that feeds at the roots of our doubts
shattering dreams
feeding in schemes
giving faith to our stick structured house

A huff and a puff and he blew
away with the strings of my heart
if it could than it would
always conquer with good
when it doesn't it tears us apart

Of ever after and fairy tales
I'd like to tell you some
instead I have tears
and lingering fears
all that is left of the wasteful and young

Icicles hang like spindly glass fingers from frozen gutters.
Snow blankets things like the mower, the good summer Adirondacks. Frozen in time. A long time ago.
This is my view, from the ice-etched kitchen window.
Where I am frozen, too. Hands on sticky tile, covered in dirty dishware.
What’s the point?
Boot prints still echo in the snow, up the path to the mailbox.
Where the envelope came.
Not so long ago? I can’t remember now.
I just know that this view is getting monotonous. Cold.
And the handgun’s nickel-metal finish is now warm against my hip.

unless you have lain with her
in such impossible tangles
that you forget which limbs are hers
and which are yours.

and you cannot
compare her to anything
until you have seen her delicate face
grow brighter and brighter
with the approaching dawn.

and, when you are stumbling home
with sleepless eyes,
and your clothes are heavy
and sweetened with her memory,
ah, then and only then
will i allow you
to speak of her at all.

There is a breaking point in every man, where they are beyond reason, beyond logic, beyond the very will to live. Lying there, he wondered what it would feel like to freeze to death. Around these parts, a lot of men have wondered the same thing. He closed his eyes and didn’t expect to open them again.

“Hey buddy, you alright?”

The voice sounded hollow, like in a dream. He started to wake and found himself in someone's backseat, wrapped in blankets. They were cold and smelled like motor oil.

“Let’s get you to town”

Everyday I step on the scale. It usually looks the exact same as it did the day before. It usually says the same old number.

What I expect I don’t know, but everyday I’m a little more disappointed.

I think I am going to give up, maybe if I don’t step on the scale for a while the number will change.

Now that this semester is over I can exercise some more, I’ll have more time.

I say this week after week, its always one thing or another. Im just lazy, let’s not lie anymore.

I know your in here. You can't hide forever. There's only four hundred possibilities. It's just a matter of time.

I won't give up. No matter how many cuts I get nor the possibility of electracution will deter me from hunting you down and eliminating you.

You are the dead spot in my string of happiness. You have taken my sparkle away from me and you will pay with your very life.

You are made to be replaced and I will replace you. Just as soon as I find you, dead Christmas Tree Light.