Wayne threw a right. The van slewed across the black road. He slammed the brakes, the sound of slack gravel. He pulled on the end stuck to his lips, gave the horn one long lusty honk with the flat of his hand, looked in the rearview, said, All out that's getting out! We were out front … Continue reading The Dead Meadow.
The Russian, recently bare, but now clad only in tiny vinyl shorts and flip-flops, was telling me all about how the dog days came to be called the dog days. Apparently it had to do with the stars, or the trade winds, or something. I tried to concentrate on the words, but he tended to … Continue reading Breadknife To An Iceberg.
the very last words that she heard were, “hey, man! they’ve just landed!” it was late one night in ‘69 we laid her out on a big blue blanket. we carried her down to the beach through the town, there was a storm brewing on the atlantic. the needle dropped down and i heard the … Continue reading Side 2 of Beggar’s Banquet.
May 10th 2019 Waking, beneath the domed ceiling of the Picardy Hotel, to the sound of knocking on the room door. It is Graham T. His shirt is heavily stained with blood. He has been in a knife fight. I am so concerned that I don't think to ask him how he comes to be … Continue reading dream diaries…64
birmingham hummingbird - (alabaman breeze): night-flyer. The reeve of the ruff is a pond wader. sky/w/riter. John Gordon (1890-1974): editor-in-chief of the Sunday Express, 1928-1952. 'As a junior reporter he took carrier pigeons to football games to ensure the results were reported quickly. (Gordon) introduced the first crossword puzzles and features on … Continue reading Pond Wader.
pulling the compilation tape, that she had lovingly made, from the dashboard of his fiesta, he wished he’d never even met her. he sent it streaming out the window. how he hoped he could forget her. this tape contained the kind of music that he’d really tried to love, or even like. but found … Continue reading it’s complicated.
