Jamie Grefe

Grind, Dear Friend, Grind MONDO FATALES ACTION


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reading log


abattoir incident

junk art

angelo pulp

berg's matter

birds rest

bitter fake

brain room

brown poems

caldwell's enemy


cannibal priestess

corridor one

corridor three

deerhead puppets

doom horizon

drops shots

drowned girl

dusk lung

early death

electric delirium

evil woman

feigned nights

feral doom

fire scars

flamboozled beak

flower stitches

future wounds

giraffe party

girl four


horizon regained

interior sloth

jones's girl

livid men

love clutch

lovecraftian krall

lucy lip

map routes


muck child

mondo ben

nip down

orange shinjuku

over thirteen

palm desert

pierce's doughnut

pigs gather

polluted interiors

possession notes

rain blood

raw gums

risen stay

scanlon's border


sour pinch

spring breakers

tanzer's mouth

the end


threaten me


ugly mouth


venom mouth

vinegar cutlery

wet spot

wilson's diegeses

worm holes

your hand








  1. Coyote, Ape, Buzzard: Joel Potrykus on Film

    I interviewed and wrote a short about Joel Potrykus, writer/director of Ape, Coyote, and the forthcoming, Buzzard. Read it at Rapid Growth Media. Support independent cinema. Onward, my animals. 



    1. I am in the shed singing, “Eternal Weekend.” It is nineteen ninety six or thereabouts. I have a jacket that reads, “Steve,” in cursive across the left breast, but that is not my true name. I am creek walking, staring white water and hot pink. I hear: sing of spring. Sounds wrap rust-wire around knuckles. Spread fingers. Let the blood streak dry on your leg. We are not finished. Friends come by and smear their names on the shed door. This is harmony forever.

    2.  We are on spring break. There are no bikinis here, no alcohol, no motels or gold teeth. There is water. We bike down to the mill and crash against the “Stop” sign to see how far our bodies can fly before they are stopped by water. I touch the water’s edge in a canoe made of bottoms. The Real blinds me.

    3. Saint Maximos the Confessor writes, “In the beginning, passion and pain were not created together with the body; nor forgetfulness and ignorance together with the soul; nor the ever-changing impressions in the shape of events with the mind. All these things were brought about in man by his disobedience.” And we, in the shed, are disobedient. Our “Eternal Weekend” is a fleeing. It is the joy of the Now stretched to the horizon of “fun.” It was a girl-less summer, those days of stopping water.

    4. [Girls], Nick Cave sings, “who dance at the water’s edge shaking their asses” like #springbreakforever or Spring Breakers who grind religion on a beach in Florida. Some are not clothed. This is not Disney. She wears a pink ski mask. I wonder if Cave’s girls wear bikinis, rob fast food joints and stitch unicorns to their brows. “All of you young girls where do you hide?” Shut the door. I’m in the shed being electrocuted by an Ampeg. Passion and pain course through my body like waves of heat.

    5. “White strings flowing from their ears (Cave)” is the electric delirium of how the eternal manifests in the manipulation of sound. Too much dust in the air. I am thinking “breaker” in the electrical sense and pounding the joy of spring with the mantra, “I am no more workhorse.” It becomes the anthem of this blossoming. And can there be harmony in noise? Eric Hoffer promises that, “Modern man is weighed down more by the burden of responsibility than by the burden of sin.” Could Maximos have anticipated “modern man?”

    6. Rubbing the dark undertones of spring. For those who don masks to create or be redeemed. Kenneth Burke said something along the lines of, “no construction without destruction.” How would Hoffer suggest us in the direction of a responsible destruction via Maximos’ orthodoxy? There is a scene in Gummo where friends wrestle furniture to the ground in the kitchen. We build a bike ramp to jump. Trash Humpers affix themselves to Nashville as if the world were a gigantic toy. Cave sings, “It’s the thrill of love.” Spring break.

    7. Perhaps it is the thrill of love that resonates in the shed on the day of our rehearsal. We play teen noise not to break eardrums, but to grow new strings from dead ears. I think the eternal is a tone, unchanging and ever present. I think the harmony of the present is a break from the doldrums of habit, a cleansing of the world-temple. Our water is hot pink and a fever of bodies rubbing is not a burden, it’s a joy to behold for the girls and boys of spring break. If the language of water is a cleansing, then I will wait there by the edge forever in the light of revelation until it comes to me like a face or a tremor in the dark, dark, dark wound of spring.


  3. Battle Lion

    Glossi.com - Battle Lion: Jamie Grefe

    Click to view Battle Lion: Jamie Grefe on GLOSSI.COM

    This short magazine showcases six previously unpublished pieces and features original photographs from Michigan, Tokyo, and Hainan. The following pieces appear in this issue: “Sitting Fire,” “Fifth Folio: Production Notes,” “Knuckling Water,” “Apple Tongue,” “Battle Lion,” and “For Nick Cave.” I hope to make more of these Glossi’s in the future. Thank you for reading. 

  4. Michigone [Dear Misery]

    My short piece, “Dear Misery,” AKA “Michigone” appears in this special epistolary issue from Short, Fast, and Deadly. The issue features six new works by Parker Tettleton who has some excellent new pieces up at elimae, Untoward Magazine, and elsewhere. 

  5. Nip Down Tight

    Thank you, Dogzplot editors for publishing this piece. This story is the result of an afternoon in Michigan observing how we shift roles depending on who we are speaking with. Thank you, again for reading. I have one other piece, "My Feigned Nights," that went up at Dogzplot in August 2011, if you are interested in more. 

  6. The Rain Will Swallow the Blood

    For this piece, attention to the power of certain words, has been intentionally repeated to a hopefully hypnotizing effect. There is a story here, but it is drenched in blood. Also, it was quite inspired by an afternoon drive down the gravel roads of northern Michigan, away from my wife, while surrounded by old memories and future hopes. Thank you to Spittoon Magazine for picking this up and for seeing a beauty in it. The issue it appears in (2.1) features many wonderful writers and artists. Please have a look.

  7. Feral Doom

    File this one under the “post-apocalyptic-backwoods-supernatural-grotesque-undead” category. I’m stoked that The Carnage Conservatory is hosting this one and I hope the more visceral moments of the piece fit with the overall aesthetic of the story. That shack was just all too real for me. It hearkens me back to those days in the ravine wandering among dilapidated foundations, abandoned mills, and gutted-out houses. I had a lot of fun writing this story and hope you enjoy it. 

  8. Slumped

    A condensed piece centered around an old abandoned house that existed when I was a child. Thank you to Danse Macabre for accepting this piece and to the many editors that pushed me to make this piece better than I originally wrote it. Without their push, this beautiful fragment wouldn’t exist.