On the Beach, 4:45 A.M.
She sprints, bare toes digging into the wet sand, tightened arches scooping and scattering behind her the crumbling clumps. The footprints she leaves don’t even resemble something made by a human. They...
View ArticleJanuary, 1942
It seemed a relentless winter, and the cold sucked life out of everything. She lived but two days, her father pacing the house, clutching at hope, stoking the little coal stove in the corner. But it...
View ArticleStorm Crow
A storm crow, blown out to sea by the unforgiving maelstrom of its namesake, lost, exhausted and failing, looked down at the black void of water and endless night below itself for what it thought would...
View ArticleNFAID # 1005
#1005 They x-rayed his skeleton, and the doctor shook his head at the canvas exposed. Why son, you’re naught but a vast and terrible scrimshaw in there. Life is writ hard upon your bones. Why? He...
View ArticleImpetus
As I’m driving, I’m telling her about saving the goldfinch — the one that flew into the front window of the house earlier in the day and fell, stunned, into the junipers below. How I went out to make...
View ArticleNFAID # 1006
#1006 It is a surreal drumbeat that supplies the subconscious soundtrack for my dream, thudding exotically while I search in desperation beneath endless layers of grey woolen blankets for my dead...
View ArticleThe Supreme Order of Pantologists and Hierophants
Their intimidating factory looms over the land, endlessly spewing forth the emanations of the labour of its mysterious operators. P&H: The Supreme Order of Pantologists and Hierophants. Little is...
View ArticleNFAID # 1007
#1007 The twang-spangle of water through a culvert. The trickle that tickles something depthless in the soul — you remember it. You were young enough, small enough, to fit inside that big one near...
View ArticleTwo Minutes
Wind, rain. Lying there in his bed, Fred can hear the latter beating against his roof and the former rattling the glass in the windows of his upstairs flat. His first thoughts of the day are tainted by...
View ArticlePassenger
Night-driving, summertime, late ’70s, alone in the Buick LeSabre with my father. Rural two-lane blacktop and a broken yellow line stretching into the darkness ahead, consumed by the headlong momentum...
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