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Night bleeds stars when it is too early to come in and too late to go out so there are too many untold stories around including what happens tonight – or was it morning? * People say it is good to feel pain for there will be poems in misery but this is wrong: there is … Continue reading
I’ve been trying to read the story of my life but there’s no arc the plots random and unknown the characters aren’t very liked or agreeable and whoever the author was, they piled on some terrible tragedies like racism and blizzards and tight tank tops that haven’t been solved by the 23rd sequel but that … Continue reading
I’m having a difficult time crafting something beautiful. I feel overwhelmed with the possibilities, swallowed by them as though I were in a whale. I only have guts and slime to work with. I can’t tell which anatomical part is what. All is hazed in similarity and goo. The same tissue and muscle and fat. … Continue reading
There was this boy, though there always is, and this girl, though there always is, and she was blind and he wasn’t so he thought she looked pretty nice and he promised the impossible willies of improvisation like that he’d make her happy and make her lovely and fix her eyes too, and she said … Continue reading
The following was published in Incite, December 2013, during their time theme. It’s loud nonsense. * “Shouldn’t we be dead?” “Maybe we already are?” “I don’t think so.” “What do you mean?” “Well, I mean, I’m here, wherever that may be, and you’re there, wherever that may be.” “You sound so far away, though.” “So do … Continue reading
Okay, so here’s the story. A man is travelling. He’s a merchant. Moves here. Sells there. Moves somewhere else. Has a family that he’s supporting. Wife and kids. Usual stuff. Takes on an arduous life for them. Migrating and not seeing them and getting money only to send it back, which lets him send more … Continue reading
In the beginning, there was a boy and a grandmother and they were sitting together in a nearly empty room. Wooden chairs gobbled up little of the free space. Dusty curtains vacuumed out the sun. The boy was wedged on a sofa. Patches of the cushion tickled his leg. Newspaper crinkled under his butt. Each time … Continue reading
A reborn story. I wanted it to be up here by itself, rather than submerge it within another. Give it its own legs to walk on, so to speak. * She had just given birth and he released he didn’t love her. He shifted his stance from one foot to another, dancing in spot to … Continue reading
I’m drunk and feeling good and I might as well tell them. Heck. They keep asking questions. So many questions. Why this? Why that? Why aren’t you answering truthfully? They aren’t saying the last one, but it’s suggested in their shrugs and their coughs and the silence afterwards. They can tell I’m dodging. They see … Continue reading
I sometimes think that if the sun would explode, I wouldn’t notice. I’d just wake up like I always do with a grunt and a heavy hand hitting snooze. Another alarm would go off and another grumble would accompany it. We’d battle for the airwaves – an electronic cacophony and a Cro-Magnon vestigial etymology – … Continue reading
Mizpellt wurdz 