She stared down the length of the platform waiting for the train to pull in. A few construction workers milled around and a painter was putting some finishing touches on a wall. The station was scheduled to open in a week and looked already complete. Everyone just seemed to be looking busy, avoiding some boss, …
Blank page Product of burning anxiety Panic attacking from all angles The computer seems to be carrying charge The screen too bright The room beginning to constrain and constrict The music becomes discordant heartbeat and ragged breath become all consuming Laptop closed as the user rises Hands clammy grip the breast Again the monster of …
My upstairs neighbors seem to have a piano- or maybe an incredible sound system that perfectly mimics the sound of a piano. Whoever is tickling the ivories is supremely talented, the crisp notes float down on the summer breeze past my open windows, and bass notes reverberate through the cement walls of the old building. …
The odd shape of the station hung half in shadow, half in brilliant light. The rotation that gave gravity, or its odd approximation kept the parts illuminated and in shadow always changing, I once heard back in the old Apollo days they called it a barbeque roll. I’d shot up from Earth this morning, a …
Set me up just to turn me loose, I think that’s what the song said, though I don’t really remember. The lyrics were washed out in the blast of wind, my earbuds were no match for the local train headed into the city. I hung out the doors and bathed in the humid air of …
The ink on the silk showed a tortoise, green and withered. It stood reaching its neck out towards a low-hanging peach. The tree above was a galaxy of pinks; flowers in resplendent bloom, branches heavy with fruit. The tree and the tortoise are on a bend in some sort of cosmic river, portrayed in vast …
The wind gusted and the trees shook. Far away, a man once said when big trees fall the earth trembles. He used it as a shitty excuse for a race riot, but standing in the forest in a windstorm, I think he undersold it. The wind was gusting above one hundred and I realized that …
“I could be wrong, but I think pasta salad is the vilest culinary invention of mankind. It’s perverse, repugnant, disgusting shit. Who the fuck decided it was a good idea to eat pasta cold? What lunatic asylum lunch buffet was it originally made for?” “It’s a midwestern thing,” I said trying to hold back my …
I guess that’s always something that’s been in the background, though I don’t think of it much. Music? Yeah, not literally, like background music in hallways and whatnot or muzak in all the elevators I ride in, though come to think of it I haven’t heard music in an elevator in a long time. When …
In my soul The peach blossoms are in bloom Pink and resplendent in the Dao’s rays The float away on the wind Time moving their fragile pedals Of to bloom another season And here and now To ripen into juicy soft fruit Covered in downy fuzz