Author: Aaron Echoes August
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Gracelyn Polk sat in the Cabbage Junction Public Library reading about the Napoleonic Wars from an old, oversized book. Read more.
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I floated above the road from out of LipLock, Tejas earlier in the day and headed north, then east. I… Read more.
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The mercury red was dripping through the lights of the downtown bars – it was blood running through rainbows and… Read more.
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I sat in the broken window and looked out onto the burnt grass and the weeds; the sun was gone,… Read more.
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And there’s a manic man behind a typewriter, his heart in his hands, sweating away in this disillusioned reality fantasy Read more.
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His eyes stained this townon a sunny autumn daylike leaves dropping from his eyescrunchy, veiny tears that smelled of winter… Read more.
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After 37 beers and a carton of Strikes, down there below those swirling, curling lights of the Piccadilly-like carnival on… Read more.
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This isn’t my heart on a TV show, isn’t my heart crushed on Cannery Row Read more.
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The fair light peaks at dawn, this heart flattered by the rush, another perilous tick tock, another band of blue,… Read more.
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I broke the seal of the highway bottle, the greasy liquid shot of a place unlike Eden, a place called… Read more.
