Tag Archives: Playwright

Rehab Stories: The Meditation Room

The fat kid lying next to me is making the most annoying wheezing sound when he breathes in and out; a sort of sick whistle like the death rattle of a ferret that’s been run over by a car. I’m … More

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Women and Dictators

I’ve carelessly handed the keys to my conscience more times than I can count to petty tyrants and femmes fatale to sob sisters and frightened sheep in wolves’ clothing They, in turn, have ridden me recklessly, without regard for the … More

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Butcher Shop Poetry

Some poems slide off my tongue like a drop of scotch whiskey Others must be lured from my throat with a hook and bait But there are some that need to be carved from my flesh and slapped down on … More

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