Poetry
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PoetryAmgen
if you take the 101 west, out past canoga park round the bend past the sign Pepperdine you can literally smell the $$$ the…
PoetryHostess
Mom asked if I could bring her a few things. I said maybe. “I just want some Hostess fruit pies,” she said. “Apple. And…
PoetryFragile morning motivation
It’s quite comforting to know that I wake up on 100% of the days that I’m alive and odds of fighting for yet another…
PoetryAbscission
Monochrome greens recede like the shorter day into a longer night for a pageant of pigments on a runway sashay down a fall fashion…
PoetryBottom feeding at the gas station slots
the slot allows you to see the next roll for free sometimes that next roll is a winner but you gotta sit there like…
Poetry4:43 a.m.
sorting over the bones that had meaning when flesh was on them flesh is long gone now meaning remains
Art, Poetry.memoire.
the back road was littered, rather blustery. today clouds blow in, leaves crake and groan. i say again, a darker hue
PoetryI see the sun come up and we have one more day
she is sitting 5 feet away in her wheelchair, back to me as always she says often, “Oh well, it’s not like I’m going…
PoetryParkinson’s
rice falls like confetti from my fork lands on the table the plate the floor. I wander through rooms going nowhere wait for the…
Fiction, Poetry10 North Fulton
Praise Sammy Tepper with the fiery red hair—scapegoat for bullies who taunt and tease to hear him squeal. Praise Etsio Goloni, Gas-station Joe, for…