Short Fiction and Poetry

The lights go on and a man in a sky-blue sports jacket and black pants comes out onto the stage holding a microphone. He waits for extensive applause[...]

Black notes on a staff of sky, crows revive fragments of hymns believers have long forgotten. [...]

I am the ghost of Relevance. I hang in this hotel. I don’t care much for fragrances I’ve lost my sense of smell. [...]

The cake was purchased from Gladwell’s Bakery on Queen’s Street. The shop had a pastel pink front door and a window display adorned with strawberry-filled pastries[...]

The radio mutters in the corner, half-songs, broken sermons, voices slipping through static like ghosts rehearsing for an audience. [...]

This is the elegy I sculpt into cursive with the connective tissue strung between our bodies like a thread and two tin cans [...]

In a dimly lit room, the lute player twists the strings at the head of his instrument. Six more people are seated around him at the dinner table. [...]

I remember how every day was an adventure.  We, the heroes, sharing segments of tangerine   and secrets in a made-up language. [...]

The lady at the door asked if I believed in God, I told her honestly, I’m only searching for a breather, [...]

The heavy door into the house will open again, soon enough. They are going to need to refill the trough for us. [...]