Fiction
Thunder Polka
The thunder polka of a new romance Began today on my left foot, the one Believed to lead suggestiveness astray. True love’s a waltz: it’s
Violets Are Blue
Bending at the knees, Camilla crouched down to view the lipsticks on the lowest shelf of the drug store cosmetic aisle. The hem of her black dress grazed the linoleum floor as her fingers hovered over the edge of the shelf.
Fragmented Silence, Fragmented Sound
How do you photograph silence? Is it represented by an empty room? A sleeping baby? A seascape?
Godland: Sammie Jo
Sammie Jo don’t talk much. Her mother like to cut out her tongue any time she speaks up. A bone outta socket. As big as
Edit
Can’t you let the film spool unseen on the stained floor? Its frames forever static as my fingers resplice our hands. Let my battalions of
Ghost Hunting
I’m hunting for ghosts,In alleys lit by memories,Phantoms of yesterday,Carved out of my mind.What I once held,You me and our dreams,Scraped knees and screeching swings,Pokémon