Creative Writing
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Reborn on the Fourth of the Flies
Kirby looked at the van parked in his driveway and nearly had to shield his eyes because it was so blaring in color and flare. “My God,” Kirby said. “Are we going to go drink and try to kill you in this thing?” Continue reading
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BumBuna O’Brien and the Evolution Oven (2)
The next morning, they docked at Rocky Point, and it was indeed a rocky point that jutted out into the sea like a stony gray elbow. There was a tall white lighthouse and a small harbor, and an odd quaint village that rested neatly at the crest of a steep hill. “I’ll be at the… Continue reading
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Mika Lula Was Like Milk
It left me wanting to go home and jump on a blank page like one jumps on a wife to initiate a slow, hot screw against a broken window. Continue reading
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Child of the Cabbage (End)
Gracelyn Polk was on her stomach on a small bed in a girlish bedroom of pink. Her legs were bent upward at the knees behind her, socked feet crossed, as she lazily flipped through a teen magazine. A Who record spun on a small turntable in its own red box that could close with a… Continue reading
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Child of the Cabbage (Ep. 7)
Gracelyn Polk stood in front of her social studies classroom and cleared her throat as she looked down at the paper she held in her hands. She moved her head up, addressed the empty desks with her eyes and smiled. “For my report on the person I most admire, I chose someone that I just… Continue reading
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Sun of Dirt
Why is this world so dirty?why are the lumps playing King?I look around, look aroundcan’t see anythingcan’t avert my eyesto all the splashes of filththat survive Dirty walls and dirty streetsa laundromat full of dirty sheetsstained with all those lovers’ dreamshelpless infants, toddlers toodrinking from dirty bottleswith their dirty little mouthswet with the slobberof an… Continue reading
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Beyond a Shadow of a Lemon
It be catastrophic ink Hand-held jubilee in Sicily Heart ripped Via raw meat grinder Downtown high school The high bums making their way In cascading light and atrophy Train whistle kid runs I bus tables at some Italian joint Dirty head ware Lomticks of lowly paycheck curse the bank Stirring spaghetti sauce with hair drenched… Continue reading
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Child of the Cabbage (Ep. 6)
It was the general Midwestern place found in the great picture book of the American dream, now dreamless. The homes ran in a row down each side of the boulevard, typical two-story architectural teeth erected by lost hands inside a broken jaw, darkened square windows of dusted glass looking out on buckled and broken sidewalks… Continue reading
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The Doll Salon (End)
Feldon saw that it was Carl and Eve as groom and bride up front and there was a plume of death incense percolating in a thurible and then a bloodless pall fell over the entire gathering. Continue reading
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The Doll Salon (Pt. 3)
“It’s not playing with dolls! It takes real creativity and skill to make a doll look beautiful and perfect. There’s hair and makeup to consider, the right dress, and accessories, too.” Continue reading
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