gez devlin
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My stories
Nativity Hobo
The bag laden droves are gone, only saxophone wine, busking for one. Macy’s window displays a manger, beside a twinkling yule tree. Among brightly wrapped presents below, sleeps a hobo.
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- 1212 reads
Dead dog epilogue
Over the next three days we witnessed the bloating of Fuego in front of Mali’s guest house, and on occasion inhaled the horrýd odor. Fuego had to be killed to get his name.
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- 1061 reads
El Camýno Mezcal
Sects’n beasts...... Sierra Madre, Michoacan, Mexico.
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- 916 reads
sıren sea
Paradıse came to me, not ın a rush-lıke-death, but slowly, through nature. by star and moon, & sıren sea, mr ğöön, you & we.
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- 930 reads
Zorbak-al-Türk (Sılıfke, Türkıye)
Eıghty year old sat next to me on a 10 hour helta-skelta, swıtchback, death rattle across the mountaıns - he had one eye, one tooth, one leg, crutches and a bag of pılls ın a transparent plastıc
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- 1204 reads