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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 |
Comments (3)
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)
June 25, 2008
to Eric
A stripe of smoldering macadam from curb to curb, the air heady and saturated with gasoline vapor. The boys jump through heat waves that shimmer as thinly as the sun at the horizon. With every leap the rubber soles of their Air Jordans or Reebok Pumps grow more gooey. Girls with long bangs and [...]
Filed under: biography, pilcrow, writing |
Comments (2)
May 26, 2008
M interviews D about their complicated relationship, and hand-licking.
Filed under: fiction, pilcrow, species spotlight, writing |
Comments (6)
May 21, 2008
Zephyr, a new contributor to The Buttered Slice, shares poetry about kissing her son’s cheek.
Filed under: Zephyr, poetry, writing |
Comments (7)
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 |
Comments (5)
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)
March 4, 2008
August 23rd, 2005 — los hermanos at Los Hermanos
My brother and I infiltrated my work today with small adhesive wall hooks and a prepared picture frame. Our destination was the Fish Room, upstairs:
My brother carried a camera to document our work.
The day was stormy and clouded over, the skies heavy with rain like a sponge [...]
Filed under: adventures, pilcrow, pilcrow's archives, writing |
Comments (6)
March 2, 2008
Salmon is fish for company;
Snapper when we eat alone.
Spinsters poach perch
Slathered with tartar sauce.
Bachelors would eat steak;
Bachelors eat mostly Hot Pockets.
Better weeks see blueberry frozen waffles for
Breakfast, or dessert.
Some houses fill daily with
Smoke; greasy dust
Settles on top of the fridge, in cupboard corners,
Stays for years.
Some houses ring like campaniles at
Supper time.
Some houses the kitchens are [...]
Filed under: pilcrow, poetry, writing |
Comments (4)
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)
