Tag Archives: Microfiction

the word piles

Posted on November 30, 2021 by istsfor manity

the heebie jeebies (redux) this is about a poet who writes bird poems —without birds appearing in said poems mouth breathers and thirteen year old prostitutes often appear crying artillery shots echo in the blue distance the poet is a … Continue reading →

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expect the unexpected

Posted on November 26, 2021 by istsfor manity

Pockmarked … later I get flashes of grandpa with his old runners all rolled up into one giant sticky mess—balled and held together with tape… He’d talk about the high school girls he’d “teach” Bible Study to. They: all spouting … Continue reading →

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sour broiling turkey

Posted on November 25, 2021 by istsfor manity

Hegemonic Extirpation Day Blues A litter of puppies feeding in the corner of the living room. Dried shit streaked on the bathroom towels. The, too-early, Christmas tree is canted and some of the ornaments are unfurling their covers revealing the … Continue reading →

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make anything happen

Posted on November 24, 2021 by istsfor manity

Pumpkin Thoughtbot Dream Get it together and join up now. What are you doing for fulfillment? Do you hum “fa la la, tra lee dee” much too often, throughout the dark days, the creaking nights, and in your barren dreams? … Continue reading →

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white bread m.o.r.

Posted on November 22, 2021 by istsfor manity

Bluetoothing the Novel Maple bacon cheddar pizza, I say, repeating what she just said to me. I need a snack soon, she says. A swoony-jazzy song plays like it’s 1967—remember the smarmy song playing in The Graduate when Bancroft is … Continue reading →

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flecky eyefuls jaundice

Posted on November 21, 2021 by istsfor manity

What You Said at N+15 What could I possibly say when you say (backhand): it’s you. I don’t know if you’re talking twang, talking to those radicals, or if you’re addressing me. Somehow, judging by the tonsure of your vole, … Continue reading →

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happy three to thee

Posted on November 20, 2021 by istsfor manity

huh? wha’? wha’ happened?! While I wasn’t paying attention this endeavor turned two years old, on 11/17/21, and quickly shifted into its third year of existence … Hey, hurray, harrumph! This is still: thee istsfor manity reader And this remains … Continue reading →

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the original skin

Posted on November 19, 2021 by istsfor manity

Writing Us into Existence I. He took off his shoes and the right pinkie was exposed — nude, malformed, and smelling like Limburger from six feet away. A couple of wiry hairs arcing over the sock. She, on the other … Continue reading →

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in my neighborhood

Posted on November 17, 2021 by istsfor manity

You are like the tuber of calcaneous, necessary but non-articulating… Without you there is no ambulating me… The things you said to me in your gasps and low moans: “They transferred me to room 15…” “It’s the same to die … Continue reading →

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in my neighborhood

Posted on November 14, 2021 by istsfor manity

If you took a mondegreen and somehow made it a spondee … would grass grow from its base and spread a towering canopy from its expanding branches … and throw us into shadow for two/thirds of the year? A gutbucket … Continue reading →

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