Picks of the Month
January
Triptych 1: Mass
Mother in a mantilla rubs her spit dampened handkerchief across a child’s face, not clean enough for God, who lives inside and judges us all. She...
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- 22 comments
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- 5880 reads
November
into the grey afternoon
In the woods with the child his impotent rage subsided some. He breathed deeply among the trees and crouched with the child by huge fungi and fallen...
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- 5 comments
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- 1839 reads
October
Tattoo man
walks down street, shaved head bowed - shoulders slumped and leathered features weathered brown. Dog end loose between the yellowed digits - sucks...
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- 20 comments
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- 6031 reads
Remembering Molly
This is from a series of prose vignettes I've written, all of which tie into one story. All entries from the series are semi-biographical, this one in particular reflecting a real situation and based on real people, one of whom was me and the other, a prostitute named Molly. It's rather long but I couldn't split it appropriately so bravo and thank you if you make it to the end!
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- 17 comments
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- 3694 reads
August
Please, leave the light on. ( The reply)
As always, there are two sides to every story. Here's the reply... Dear Robert, Your letter was forwarded onto me by the new tenants of Jenny’s old...
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- 22 comments
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- 14975 reads
running in the rain
There is something compelling and slightly unsettling the way the rain strikes my face hits my cheeks and my lips. Droplets drum a delightful pattern...
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- 27 comments
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- 6851 reads
July
(I Don't Want to) Ride the Piss and Graffiti Train Anymore
Thinking on the train.
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- 12 comments
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- 5038 reads
June
The Sewing Machine
The Sewing Machine As a young man, I was fond of walking holidays and particularly liked the wilds of Scotland, covering vast distances by foot. They...
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- 11 comments
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- 5545 reads
May
A Room In Chungking
On the gritty wall askew in sultry disrepair, hangs Hokusai’s Great Wave. Almost a window once perhaps, this place has won it over. Below on crumpled...
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- 15 comments
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- 5060 reads
Gave it to the sea
The cut between these times was such that I thought it possible I was living in an afterlife. In louder places we sat in filthy messes, plates and...
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- 21 comments
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- 6610 reads