Selected Publications & Excerpts:
“The Mothers” & “The Monsters”
She said, “Do you want me to strike you sharply across the mouth?” I leaned in close. To my surprise, she held me. “I am 40 years old,” I wept. “I know,” she said. “I know.” In other rooms, we attempted to perform for each other the role of a female counterpart. We lined up and struck each other sharply across the mouths.
“Archival Landfill”
Junior isn’t restricted to the pen. He may come and go as he pleases. All we ask is that he mow the lawn when it becomes too elegiac. Still, we worry. He seems to come and go just for the coming and going of it, as if he were a cowboy. We didn’t raise a cowboy.
“Bulk”
We came to blows. They played it tough but you could tell they were too tired to really defend themselves. Learn us something, we taunted. One of them broke the bottom off a glass bottle and wielded it like it was a motion picture. Some of the fish were the color of technicolor. One of them misspoke the only line it was given. We couldn’t stop laughing.
from Heartland Calamitous:
I reemerged fifteen years later. I wasn’t supposed to come back. “Miraculous,” I guffawed in front of the man I presumed a coworker, the man attempting to conceal that he had been masturbating at his desk, our desk […]
No good Western begins with Indiana. Never mind how American it is: me, the Eldorado, and me having stolen the Eldorado from a One Stop in Fort Wayne.
I am trying to escape the heartland.
I want to be the type of man who would shoot another man for his wants. But I could never shoot another man. It’s why I waited for an empty vehicle left running. Why it was done under the cover of dark […]
“I am the Heaviest Feeling Man on the Planet”
BOINKzine
The TV decides for him that he should have everything. And then suddenly there he is, crashed through the glass front of a fast-casual American restaurant, concussed, and bleeding from the nose. He’s fallen into a ball pit. The balls stick to his clothes. He removes his clothes. He can’t remove his skin. He feels them like overgrown pustules. The small hand of a boy smelling like the lake reaches in, pulls him out […]
“I flipped my Word-A-Day desk calendar to this day and saw the word grievous and tried to use the word grievous in a sentence and realized the sentence is life.”
“I have been reduced to yearning for a blanket of heavy, impenetrable sod.”
“I go home and attempt not to decompress but to decompose.” […]
Michael Credico 