D.A. Donaldson Water’s Edge Civility suffocates the water’s edge where we once ran laughing at the shallow fish, now mesmerized by tattered skeletons of crayfish armor, floating like a funeral. D.A. Donaldson maintains a flash-fiction blog whilst laboring as a clerk in a public library.
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Rajani Radhakrishnan “Spent”
Rajani Radhakrishnan Spent That night, time and I sat on the couch, barely talking, the ginger tea growing cold in ochre mugs, ignoring the moon that walked in through the window, its dark half draped over its arm, shaking its head at the improbability of a moment that wasn’t. Rajani Radhakrishnan is from Bangalore, India […]
Read MoreMark Young “prevaricated ambience”
Mark Young prevaricated ambiance An American skate punk— who earns his living as a lens grinder—used equivocal language & refreshing scented candles to harness the sensual tweets from his CEO & turn them into a sordid tale of treachery. Mark Young’s most recent book is random salamanders, a Wanton Text Production.
Read MoreAnne Graue “I am not quite ready to leave”
Anne Graue I am not quite ready to leave because leaving would mean losing time spent watching The Great British Baking Show and would mean I would miss watching someone bake and construct a 3-tier meringue or a gingerbread pub with stained glass windows and a sticky sweet floor or watching someone leave their bread […]
Read MoreLaura Tarasoff “Abnegate”
Laura Tarasoff Abnegate Save some of your bad for something really good. Laura Tarasoff loves a great burger, a rolling laugh and talking to everyone.
Read MoreRon. Lavalette “Inspiration”
Ron. Lavalette Inspiration Twice in a day and a half he’s almost certain he hears it: the voice of an angel speaking from just around the corner as if from some great distance seeming almost lost in recitation almost inaudible telling some cosmic joke or posing a celestial riddle, repeating the words hoodwink, subterfuge, flabbergast. […]
Read MoreCindy Bousquet Harris “Tantrum”
Cindy Bousquet Harris Tantrum I’ve become a yellowjacket layering its paper nest, an avalanche of fishhooks, wishbone wrestler punching the mat, the comet’s frigid tail of debris. Cindy Bousquet Harris loves to watch the sky and listen to the trees.
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