I like to write lyric poems, poetic lyrics and short shorts."All novels would be twenty pages long if they didn't describe the trees."
TEmperature
Stout - Trout
Sheer - Reset
CErtain
ERmine
Steam - Taste
Smash - Masts
ICemen
ETched
Lager - Rages
Club Kitty on Canal Street is no more, The booth, where once a bottle blonde sat poised To grab your five, at the clanking turnstile, Lies dark and locked and manacled with chains. And poster frames that screamed of promised sin Now hang like empty sacs, their contents spilled, While strung apart, like stars, the ghosts of men Undress the sunkissed girls like future wives. ...
Added 22 Dec 2020 | Category Poetry | Votes 3 | Avg Score 5 | Views 76 | 2 Comments
They sat in a silence so solid it had assumed the status of a third party. Her shoulder was to him, face pressed against the car's side window. He tried to think of something to say. But he failed and instead hit the radio button. It was the Country Gold station. Hank Williams was singing 'Your Cheatin' Heart'. So he said, "did you know that Hank Williams was only twenty-nine when he died?"...
Added 07 Dec 2020 | Category Micro Fiction | Votes 5 | Avg Score 5 | Views 158 | 5 Comments
You wipe your paintbrush with the silk panties I bought on the way home from visiting his tiny grave. It was the day we met, in that Pigalle dive bar, where you danced close causing thin milk to stain my blouse, and much later, reeling towards dawn, fingered my slit, as we stumbled up to the attic room with its surprising view of the sky. "I really don't see the point of going on," I...
Added 15 Nov 2020 | Category Micro Fiction | Votes 5 | Avg Score 5 | Views 143 | 6 Comments
Tony Marconi's driver took a different route each morning. Today, they'd hit the garment district first, then back along the boulevard. Cocooned in the rear seat he raked his brindled crew cut trying to locate the source of a slight, but persistent, headache. At barely fifty, he was one of the most successful beasts alive in this jungle of steel and glass; the booze and girls and junk...
Added 03 Nov 2020 | Category Micro Fiction | Votes 5 | Avg Score 5 | Views 174 | 6 Comments
"I'm so fed up of being single." Jill and Sara were eating lunch. "What about Mike," suggested Sara, indicating a young man who'd just entered the canteen. "Mmm, he's cute, but I think he might be a little weird." "Oh really, how so?" "He always wears odd socks." Just then Mike passed their table. "Hey Mike," called Sara, causing him to stop. "How come you always wear odd socks?" ...
Added 22 Oct 2020 | Category Flash Fiction | Votes 6 | Avg Score 5 | Views 151 | 4 Comments
Each weekday, after her husband has left for his office, Claudia retires to her rooftop studio, where for three hours she covers canvas with solid colour. Mid-morning, she walks twice around the tree lined square, with a small dog. On Monday she meets a friend for lunch. Other days, weather permitting, she eats and smokes at a pavement cafe. On Tuesday and Thursday afternoons she sees a...
Added 16 Oct 2020 | Category Micro Fiction | Votes 5 | Avg Score 5 | Views 163 | 6 Comments
Bound in red, hand tooled Moroccan leather, the worn notebook had been a Christmas present from his wife. Brad dutifully records in it the small victory of each alcohol free day. Tonight, in the minutes before midnight, he prepares to make an entry. It has been four days since his last one; two years since he last saw his wife. For all he knows she might be in Tangier....
Added 13 Oct 2020 | Category Micro Fiction | Votes 4 | Avg Score 5 | Views 389 | 5 Comments
"Why is the rain still falling when the storm passed an hour back?" I had taken my daughter for a walk through the woods. It had been a week since the funeral and she had barely uttered a word since. "The raindrops get stuck in the trees and when the wind blows it shakes them free." "Like when you cry long after something sad happens?" "Yes," I whispered. "Like that."...
Added 11 Oct 2020 | Category Micro Fiction | Votes 6 | Avg Score 5 | Views 207 | 6 Comments
In a clearing we danced; an undulating tapestry of diverse shapes and shades. As if entranced, we moved as one under the blistering eye of our arcane god. Whilst hidden from view, the butterfly collector stiffened and reached for his cell, intending to secretly capture our antic revels. But as his redundant seed splashed the earth, he let out a sharp cough like a fox. Alerted, we split...
Added 09 Oct 2020 | Category Micro Fiction | Votes 6 | Avg Score 5 | Views 199 | 7 Comments
When it all started, 'we the people' objected. We called them an infringement on our liberty, a thief of identity. They were uncomfortable, unfriendly, and altogether alien in this land of the free. Then as time passed, we started to choose ones that reflected our mood, matched our outfits, made a statement. They became part of our identity. So much so, that when the danger passed,...
Added 24 Sep 2020 | Category Micro Fiction | Votes 6 | Avg Score 5 | Views 208 | 6 Comments
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