Short Fiction and Poetry

Walt Granger was dead. Funeral felt like a union meeting, just better beer, and nobody bitching about payroll. [...]

A giant loom with ten thousand bobbins churns out blanket after blanket [...]

I had undergone the procedure three times before we gave up: hormone injections, egg extraction, incubation. Those were tense times. [...]

Bonnets overlapping ambulances standing as centres of traffic’s mandala: pins pulling pinheads and seams along fabric to place. the blue balling core; the tack and the pursing together. a cluster in clothing: life’s flow as it happens around. people in the way getting out of it. making space for others. and bonnets overlapping and scaling toward the pavement, a pattern, but only from above, like petals around flowers bursting out toward a point. and ahead the real drama – so

He stumbled and pitched forward, shooting out his left hand. And though he stopped himself from going face first into the gully muck [...]

No mother should have to bury her child, but it will be fine, I tell myself. I make arrangements. [...]

how quickly flames are smothered in shadows statuesque marble monuments glint in sunlight for a day [...]

My mother is, erm, was obsessed with hygiene. She never ate street food or sat on a pavement beside a busy road. [...]

my tongue encircles each stale donut hole in their carton like a thought experiment deep in the folds of memory [...]

Hadn’t been able to look in the mirror For the last couple years or so, Scared of exterior proof His interior was crumbling. [...]