Image Curve Blog

Musician 0

Busy

Poetry is not stuck to a page, Inert and lifeless; Faded beauty Like a collection of butterflies. Poetry is busy. It is everywhere, Sat on the train when you buy your ticket, Watching the...

Populated Shore 0

Nineveh Fades Extract – Part Two

The below is an edited extract from my novel, Nineveh Fades, or, The Bomb Shelter. Over the days, she built up courage to walk towards the edge of her tower, taking one slow step...

Empire Airport 0

Formerly, Where Guns Blaze

Gushing out the mores of time, place differ from names that stick inside waxed jaws in the heat of things revenge and sex seem to be linked not joined the rest inside the booth...

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Broken Record

There’s almost no way to make someone understand what it means to beat your high school’s hundred-meter sprint record. It’s like trying to explain color to a blind person. But I’ll do my best:...

Haibun Poem Form, Flea Market Saints 0

Flea Market

Haibun Poem   A green mountain coffee sign stands in the aisle. Cotton T-shirts and three-quarter shirts with band and sports regalia logos hang on wracks or rest folded on tables inside many booths....

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After Survival

Truth resides in their universe – and canonical precedents. I’m with out. In mine, the gritty cut of obstinance – bitter, wakeful distrust poking hollows in murk. I walk a century of others –...

Broadway 0

Lost & Found

It escapes me not that in Grand Central That there’s a Lost and Found center Since Grand Central, and New York City itself, Is often the harbinger of those seeking what they have not...

short story on mischief 0

Animal Dilemmas – Chicken Rat

Short Story The Rat’s bucket prison was set very close to the red hot burning stove. Even though, the ship’s cook was busy for hours cutting vegetables and melting hat into the pats the...

Clock Time 0

Diminishing Time

The signs of age appear for the first time I am faced with physical restrictions that will only deteriorate from here Dulled pains making me irritable altering my states of mind making me say...

Rebel, Freestyle Poetry 1

Old Rebel

Freestyle Poetry   Always right, Always talking at the top of his voice Like a cannon spitting out stones ball Words. Always the revolutionist. The rebel with plenty of changeable causes. He denounces the...

Working Man 0

Wake Up – Part Two (Final)

It hurts when he sits up. Not on a physical level. Not an emotional one, either. It’s a pain from deep down, on a level that doesn’t really exist. Reach to the very bottom...