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September 30, 2008
Someday, old and baggy-sad
I’ll slip on air,
land on earth,
shatter shoulder, hip or pelvis,
plant my bones and sprout a stone above the ground
Or I will wear so thin and slight that light
will fade me out completely
I will then address all shades and spots as
brothers, nieces, long-dead mothers
All things old and treasured,
patterned silver, china, linens
doctors, deacons, soldiers, [...]
Filed under: fiction, pilcrow, poetry, writing |
Comments (2)
August 30, 2008
The girl who sat in front of Max one row over could crack her knuckles in five different ways. None of them seemed to work for Max. He watched now as she carelessly grasped two fingers at once: she was about to do the double crack. He followed her actions with his own hands—secretly, under [...]
Filed under: Acheté, fiction, writing |
Comments (1)
August 19, 2008
“Damn it Jim … she’s a zombie!”
“It doesn’t matter. I love her. What do you have against zombies anyway? Just because they’re
undead doesn’t mean they aren’t human.”
“Zombies are not human, Jim. They are the living dead! They are abominations!”
“Sticks and stones.”
“Your attraction to an animated corpse is absolutely disgusting. I mean, she’s rotting for heaven’s sake!”
“In [...]
Filed under: V. POOH 10, family, fiction, satire, writing |
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July 2, 2008
Hour after hour, her fingers dance on the keyboard. Rarely, she glances
around, and only hastily does she get up to hunt around for snacks, which
she consumes quickly. There are pizza-stained paper plates on the counter
and empty cereal bowls on the floor, spoons glued into the hardened milk.
When her hair slips from its ponytail, she deftly [...]
Filed under: Zephyr, fiction, satire, writing |
Comments (4)
May 26, 2008
M interviews D about their complicated relationship, and hand-licking.
Filed under: fiction, pilcrow, species spotlight, writing |
Comments (6)
May 10, 2008
Drizzle outside, Sports Center muted on the TV inside. The spoon handle rims around the empty can of cold soup as it clatters to the table. A few bits of bacony bean paste linger on the handle, past the reach of your last bite. Yellow buzzing street lights outside, refracted dancing shadows inside. [...]
Filed under: Squid, fiction, writing |
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March 14, 2008
Door. Suitcase. Drawer. Blouses and underwear, socks, a skirt, slacks. Handkerchiefs hat shoes. Handkerchief, eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes. Bed. Sheets, pillow. Thread count. Morning light, dawn. Telephone, taxi. Windows and rain. Door, hallway. Staircase, ballister — eighteen steps. Entryway, fish tank. Table and photographs, no dust. No conversation. Doorknob, porch, walkway. Grass, flowers puddles, trees, [...]
Filed under: fiction, pilcrow, writing |
Comments (1)
February 22, 2008
“Our candidate’s rival has just been photographed subduing and frolicking with a lion. The image is indelible. Messianic. ‘Lamb Lays Down With The Lion.’ The international press is stunned, the evangelicals are holding prayer meetings. Yesterday Lamb was effeminate and now he’s the damn King of the Jungle. Ladies and gentlemen, if we don’t hit [...]
Filed under: fiction, pilcrow, politics, writing |
Comments (2)
February 15, 2008
“Grandpa, he promised.”
“I heard him.”
“Dad’s not a liar.”
“Kevin, he doesn’t make promises like you and I make promises, like grandma makes a promise. Like we should make a promise.”
He promises like my dad made promises, like a doctor makes a promise, like an old indian makes promises.
George always made the biggest promises. He had promised [...]
Filed under: fiction, pilcrow, writing |
Comments (7)
