Tag Archives: Microfiction

your pale empire

Memorable Stuff I Read This Week . . . your world totters upon an unspoken labyrinth of questions. And we will devour you, my friend. You and all your pale empire. — Cormac McCarthy / Cities of the Plain I … Continue reading

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do you heap

conflate •pond-seeking sir what sadness do you heap upon my eyes / the weariness sinks into my bones / oblate & undone / repeated ingestions of your misery elide / have driven me to stress / suicide your stockbroker gig … Continue reading

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windows without panes

Slightly Dirty (redux) His fragrance remained in the room when he left, and she picked up notes of Ambien and gin. He turned into a dragon and blew smoke up his own ass: in this manner he floated away on … Continue reading

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in this (my) neighborhood pt. 115 (home!)

What I’m Reading: Expect society to be defective.Then weep when you find that it is farmore defective than you imagined. — Ron Padgett / “How to be Perfect”

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handbill and plumb

Old Residence Roe (redux) Venn diagrammer, Put-down fleshpot-bitten particulars, play me the warped Uriah bluffs. Shadow and hiss. Triumph pad, Draw me a Cossack and hatchway bursary embryos in and out on sternum ridges. Bring me the bluffs. White taboo … Continue reading

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about the blues

A Lap Dissolve She’s frozen in the web of a nascent season. The season of decay at the doorstep. Summer is dead, she says, from the elevated ramp. I’m blue about the blues, she says. I’m sorry, it all sounds … Continue reading

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in this (my) neighborhood pt. 114

What I’m Reading: I sharpened knivesAll night.To welcome youIn the brilliance of their blades . . . — Ladmila Lazić / “Love”

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unmoored from signifieds

Memorable Stuff I Read This Week We were nostalgic for foolishness, because it meant wisdom might matter. We were nostalgic for fakery, because it meant realness might matter. We were nostalgic for trompe l’oeil, for fool’s gold, for crocodile tears, … Continue reading

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in this (my) neighborhood pt. 113

What I’m Reading: Our bodies carry everything that has ever happened to us, the way the land carries everything of humanity. — Lidia Yuknavitch / “Unearthed”

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in this (my) neighborhood pt. 112

What I’m Reading: I need solitude. I have come forth to this hill … to see the forms of the mountains on the horizon — to behold and commune with something grander than man.  — Henry David Thoreau / Journal, … Continue reading

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