Ununited Nations

RICHIE SMITHAn indoor forestleads me up a staircase I’ve never noticedin this great city of mineI’m haunted by squandered opportunitiesby wind and laughterby the howlingof what might have meant peace.  © Richie Smith © Richie Smith 

The Incest Clinic

Dixon looks up at me for the first time, though only momentarily. His thin lips are clenched tight with a sort of guilty smirk. I’m not sure if he looks guilty because he’s embarrassed about the scene his brother is making or because my wife now has her hands on his leg, very close to their shared groin.


It has something to do with extracting other people’s thoughts. About digesting the brains of those we love.


Not all that splatters is paint.

Rocky Road

“They opened a Baskin-Robbins,” said my mother. The butcher was gone and the ice cream came in.

Dreams from the Pandemic: A Weird Paralympics

she begins her routine: an Esther Williams inspired back stroke combined with a sort of twenty five yard strut—the kind of walk old people do in a pool and consider exercise.

© Richie Smith 

© Richie Smith