Flash Fiction & Poems
Guerrilla, my love
Guerrilla, my love, save some passion for me. There’ll be mangoes, freshly cut azaleas & siestas. But your callouses must be ready to soften.
Read moreThey emerge through the quivering
They emerge through the quivering heat, their pursed lips grotesquely contorted by shame. Such a vibrant surrender greeted with nails.
Read moreIn the evening beauty appears
In the evening beauty appears dreary, moving lovesick into the care of dreaming. Sunrise pushes aside the fog.
Read moreThey'd clung like people not wanting to die
They’d clung like people not wanting to die tend to do—the ghosts in them already breathing. Then as quiet as dew they drifted away.
Read moreThe man-child points his rifle
The man-child points his rifle at me. I unbraid time; relinquish my right to cry for his losses. Both our eyes are open, looking at nothing.
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