Crumbling Asphalt

My libido is a cluster of seaweed caught between mechanical halves.

Sounds of a Warped Xylophone

Here I sit in my vinyl easychair, secluded in the private bunker I’ve named Castle Bravo, smoking black hash from Afghanistan and listening to an old album of xylophone music. The record was recorded in 1959, the year Hawaii became a United State. The music is supposed to be “exotic” but it’s essentially flavorless. They…
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The Long Sad Song of the Shunt

I have a runny chest this morning. I can feel it. I hear it dripping like a faulty faucet. I was born with a condition known as hydrocephalus. It means cerebrospinal fluid builds up in this big ol’ noggin of mine. I was a baby with a gigantic head. My doctor once said, “You’re lucky…
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Three Goddamn People

Honest Ivan Back in my cocaine days, I frequented a dealer named Ivan. He was a big Russian with a thick, formidable, Stalinesque mustache and a laugh like galloping horses. I once bought a gram from him and accidentally handed him too much money. Those were heady days and my math got scrambled. Ivan noticed…
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“These tales are visionary in a bottom-of-the-barrel pornographic way….” –Vickie T. Split, Abraxas Headache
“Kirton’s stories eke out feelings akin to warm red gelatin….” –Bruce Cloverleaf, Buff Spill Reviews
“These stories really hit you over the head with subtlety....” –Paul Gonk, Fossilized Prose Agenda
“I was relieved to read them….” –Garth Umberger III, Shoe Leather Surprise