Tag Archives: Fiction

Phantom The amplitude of echoesFunction like a phantom limb Glucose seeps into the cellsSmell of white gas and charcoal A swale once full of shoulder depth snowDid you know Frazil are ice crystalsFormed in turbulent water, as in swiftStreams or rough seas? … Continue reading →

Aeonian or Aeolian? (redux) She mistook her aeonian harp for her aeolian harp. She mistook her bemusement for amusement. Her confoundment for profoundment and her conclusion for inclusion. Nothing seemed to be what it needed to be and her mind … Continue reading →

smelting your dreams in the dream there was the tropical curvatureof the benevolent sunshine earth the racked focus out of the blistering iceto an armature 200 feet up in the air there, a baybeyond that, forsaken whelks& pernurious periwinkles paraglidinginto … Continue reading →

The Mandy Brush (redux) He bent down to rinse the toothpaste out of his mouth and his left side cramped up. The cramp was the most severe pain he’d felt in his life. The sensation seemed like a vise tightening … Continue reading →

What I’m Reading:

Memorable Stuff I Read This Week Okay I won’t use the word JewishAnd I won’t use the word ZionistAnd I won’t use the word genocideAnd I won’t use the word apartheidAnd I won’t use the word settlerAnd I won’t use … Continue reading →

What I’m Reading: In the beginning, things appear. Writing is a defiant gesture we’ve long since gotten used to: where there was nothing, somebody put something, and now everybody sees it. — Álvaro Enrigue / Now I Surrender

The Simplex Perplex Complex S. spends his last day on earth in this manner… I’m curious. How did you get here? According to my records you have a Pontiac station wagon with exterior wood panels on the doors, and yet … Continue reading →

The Cut-Up is the Only Way S. quanders on… He is a person of many-selvedged hesitations. The sidewalk is a concrete slur, a grey articulation that refuses to resolve into a destination. He feels the syntax of his own skeleton … Continue reading →

Quanders On and On The Moon Ecliptic Jejune… S. understands nothing still.  No progress, just suspicion — an achievement of sorts — another impinged misalignment. The hotel carpet is a pattern of smatters, a garment of tatters and spatters designed … Continue reading →