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Tag Archives: Flash Fiction
in the arboretum
Witch Alder After eating two dozen Witch Alder bulbs … Blah blah blah … vomitus regretus … He hid from the others in the arboretum … “Just make something, anything.” —Austin Kleon / austinkleon.com
Posted in Writing
Tagged Creative Writing, Experimental something, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Hybrid writing, Microfiction, Witch Alder, Writing
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never ending line
Clodomira’s Lament She had a dour doughy face. She dredged countless bodies up in her memories. Daily humiliations relived. Ruminations leading in on themselves, self-reflexive, like an never ending line of diminishing versions of herself in a funhouse mirror. She … Continue reading
not paid for (redux)
Buzzards on Parade The twelfth day of the month was Copperhead Wednesday. Serpentine was the look we were going for. Beatific upper register notes is what Maria was reaching for: Ta da la ta da la dao, was what she … Continue reading
took to fisticuffs
The Tuneless Ballad of Rostay Toonany and Chemo Destrapè Clowns and claustrophobes both. Masters of microbes and microbiomes—and bonhomie. Too much probiotic nonsense squelching their wheelhouse one day, and they took to fisticuffs. Oh, what a dastardly day for all! … Continue reading
go go go
Walk! Walk! Go west, go east. Just go, go, go. Get up. Get out. Get moving. Peripatetic be your word. Bump! Groove. Make way and scoot along. This place will grow moss on your backside. Don’t backslide. Get moving, man. … Continue reading
crying never stopped
(Press the play button above and below to watch my short films: mother’s insides day & your mother here…) Manta Ray is All Right On the eve of her first Mother’s Day she dreamt she was trapped in the supplies … Continue reading
hand drawn scrawls
Late Stage Pandemic Dream Robert Smith is miming one of his early music videos. It sounds like “Fire in Cairo,” but it’s not. He’s jangling his guitar at the end of a narrow white tiled hallway which you note has … Continue reading
a dayglo flower
I Am Deleterious to your state of mind. That’s what he said! Can you believe it? The nerve. I’ve been reading Psychology Today for forty years, and he has the temerity to insinuate such a thing. Remember how up to … Continue reading
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Tagged Creative Writing, Dayglo, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Microfiction, Writing
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120 vexillologists installed (redux)
wish you were here, the insects are legion (maine version) The dust, the arid heat, the vexillologists. None of that made any sense there. It was a tropical rainforest last year when we booked, and the defoliation and climate change left the … Continue reading
Posted in Writing
Tagged Creative Writing, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Microfiction, Vexillologists, Writing
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i step away (redux)
Fall Fall. Fall, I say. She doesn’t. She stays perched on her branch. Fall, I say. She does not. This ritual—the repetition is liturgical. A call and response in absentia. There is no rejoinder. There is no: and also with … Continue reading
Posted in Writing
Tagged Call and Response, Creative Writing, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Hybrid writing, Microfiction, Poetry, Prose Poetry, Writing
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