The Weekend
Short Story The weekend is a ticking crime bomb. In search of the heart of the city, armed with a freshly-shaven sinister confidence, the bottom of the situation at hand is up for grabs....
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For the term "manifesto".
How Proudly She Walks
Short Fiction “You don’t exist,” she said. Prometheus frowned. “Of course I exist! I stand before you, do I not?” “The idea of you stands before me.” The God of forethought rolled his eyes....
Altered State – Part Nine
Short Story Doctor Wilson leaned against the counter with his arms folded over his chest. “What if Tanya decides not to show up?” “She’ll be here,” said Kate. “We’ve both been working with her...
Another Mother’s Day?
Haibun Mom washed, curled, brushed and hairsprayed. Then she applied makeup and lipstick. For the first time in weeks, she looks like she always does when she goes out in public. She loses her...
Summertime Killer
Short Fiction Tight leather gloves gripped the wheel as the sound of the engines fired up. A deep roar reverberated through the vehicle, sending shivers down Harvey’s spine. The 1970 Chevy Nova sped...
What Was Lost
True Poems We watched the poets upon the stage Far better ones than I Ones that melt your heart speak their tongues swirl their breaths intermingling their emotions with the crowd As they...
Altered State – Part Eight
Short Story It was surprising to me that Kate believed I could get out of here unnoticed. I wanted to believe her, but that was hard. Doctor Wilson didn’t seem so sure, either. “And...
Relaxing into Another Weekend
Haibun Mira hands me a full glass of Chianti. “Happy Friday!” We clank glasses as we toast. I take my first sip. Dark wood taste explodes on my tongue. I lie back on the...
Even Death Is Better
Poem The clock is ticking, the room is dark, no one’s breathing, I want to hide, I want to cry, but she holds me tight. Her image is a stone, her smell is...
There He Goes
Poem There he is, doing his thing Giving us loving Power There he goes, sitting there Giving us every hour Oh no, there he ascends Turning for his throne As we pray for...
That Swing
Haibun I pull the black metal bars of that swing. The ground swings to the sky swings to the ground. Over and over again. Fog horn wind-tossed waves at Kingsland Point more by FRANK...
Forgetting You on a Plane
Poem The stale oxygen in this human cargo air ship is drying each last molecule of stability I had on land and expelling it back into the soft, deadly blue surrounding through some...
