Where Every Post Is The Last Post

Flash Fiction

Mouth Wedge

The golf hustler ghosted during the high heat of 83. His fiancé, having handed over some folding money moved me to reconnoiter those beach front dives that divot the boardwalk of Ocean City. The barkeeps… Keep Reading

Eye Rhymes

Number One With A Bullet

Language, taken apart, play acts the chorus of culture, to chant the cant to clue and score harmonic conjunction while foreshadowing discord. Making mischief and wagging a finger at civilization’s metronome, they glee club that… Keep Reading

Eye Rhymes


Bored with my toys, I bounce over to talk with you, but your commitment to communicate still broken. But you smile awhile. And grin through your gin and tonic. Less ironic, the timely liquor store… Keep Reading

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