Leviathanic

Leviathanic

leviathanic

We were running through the tunnel, flying over the rusty tracks in the darkness, out of the leviathanic cage, fleeing for our lives and pursuing The Unwavering Light at the end. We could hear the snakes slithering and crawling and stalking up the brick walls of the tunnel, hissing in undead tongues, whispering to look to the right or to the left, anywhere but straight ahead. Anywhere but straight ahead. 

 

Have faith, let’s go, run hurry. 

 

But the one beside me let his eyes slip, and he looked death in the eyes, and soon enough his feet were slipping too. 

 

We ripped him from the tracks and kept going, closer and closer to The Light at the end of the tunnel, running with The Light right beside us all that time.

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The frame tilts on its side

The frame tilts on its side

The frame tilts on its side, all the way over and under the hills, through the woodlands, past the...

Detective Kovski

Detective Kovski

a short story I  had just returned to my dusty corner on Ninth and Main, two floors up from the...

Take me in The Sienna

Take me in The Sienna

Take me in The Sienna, back to when we were kids and summer skies had nowhere to go but...

The One Who Stays

The One Who Stays

It’s all static on the radio and wavering connections on the television, but The Light cuts...

Leviathanic

Leviathanic

We were running through the tunnel, flying over the rusty tracks in the darkness, out of the...

Down in the dark

Down in the dark

Down in the dark of the wood, down with the decay and the vermin and the maggots crawling among...

Hello is different.

No page numbers. No titles. No table of contents. 

It’s a cultural commentary, a protest against the conventional wisdom, and a call for something more.

Down in the dark

Down in the dark

down in the dark

Down in the dark of the wood, down with the decay and the vermin and the maggots crawling among the remains. Bones, white turned black, crumbling in the dirt at the gnarled roots, running through the earth, back to beginnings that had long ago flown away. Graying lichens inching up the wrinkled, weatherbeaten sides of the tree, stopping short at the heavy branches that stopped trying to look for light. Veins carried a now-quenched fire, once when grasses swayed and breezes rolled over the hills. Moths fly up the branches, past the thorn vines, up to the tips of the leaves, where the dark of the wood is a little harder to see. It’s not the same as it used to be, but the moths look a little more like butterflies in the light coming out of the silver lining in the clouds.

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The frame tilts on its side

The frame tilts on its side

The frame tilts on its side, all the way over and under the hills, through the woodlands, past the...

Detective Kovski

Detective Kovski

a short story I  had just returned to my dusty corner on Ninth and Main, two floors up from the...

Take me in The Sienna

Take me in The Sienna

Take me in The Sienna, back to when we were kids and summer skies had nowhere to go but...

The One Who Stays

The One Who Stays

It’s all static on the radio and wavering connections on the television, but The Light cuts...

Leviathanic

Leviathanic

We were running through the tunnel, flying over the rusty tracks in the darkness, out of the...

Down in the dark

Down in the dark

Down in the dark of the wood, down with the decay and the vermin and the maggots crawling among...

Hello is different.

No page numbers. No titles. No table of contents. 

It’s a cultural commentary, a protest against the conventional wisdom, and a call for something more.

Fire burns and swords sting

Fire burns and swords sting

fire burns and swords sting

Yes, life is great here, I’ve got everything I could ever want, I—

 

She looks at my scars, ripped and torn flesh.

 

This Earth has not been kind to you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No,                                                 no it hasn’t.

 

 

Some of the scars you can see, some you can’t, some you’d never understand, some I wish you couldn’t. But hey, fire burns and swords sting, that’s just the way the story goes.

Trust me I’d erase all of it if I could, but it’s written into my skin with a permanent marker these old eyes are gonna have a hard time seeing straight again.

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The frame tilts on its side

The frame tilts on its side

The frame tilts on its side, all the way over and under the hills, through the woodlands, past the...

Detective Kovski

Detective Kovski

a short story I  had just returned to my dusty corner on Ninth and Main, two floors up from the...

Take me in The Sienna

Take me in The Sienna

Take me in The Sienna, back to when we were kids and summer skies had nowhere to go but...

The One Who Stays

The One Who Stays

It’s all static on the radio and wavering connections on the television, but The Light cuts...

Leviathanic

Leviathanic

We were running through the tunnel, flying over the rusty tracks in the darkness, out of the...

Down in the dark

Down in the dark

Down in the dark of the wood, down with the decay and the vermin and the maggots crawling among...

Hello is different.

No page numbers. No titles. No table of contents. 

It’s a cultural commentary, a protest against the conventional wisdom, and a call for something more.

Candlelight renegades

Candlelight renegades

candlelight renegades

Candlelight renegades in tailcoats, sweeping the ballroom and whispering secrets to save the world, anthems muttered under the breath, under The Eye. The tides of war are rising, higher than the prisons, it’s over our heads but we’re not going under, not yet. The shot heard ‘round the world is calling, and away I must go, through smoke and blazing lights in the dusk. March on, mighty men of old, Atlas is heaving and the waters are aflame with insurrection. Ben Franklin turned up AC/DC real loud and Paul Revere put on the mixtape as he rode through cobblestones and what-ifs. 

The minutemen lined up, locked and loaded pens. The plume gets more accuracy and range than the long rifle, so they’re standard issue.

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The frame tilts on its side

The frame tilts on its side

The frame tilts on its side, all the way over and under the hills, through the woodlands, past the...

Detective Kovski

Detective Kovski

a short story I  had just returned to my dusty corner on Ninth and Main, two floors up from the...

Take me in The Sienna

Take me in The Sienna

Take me in The Sienna, back to when we were kids and summer skies had nowhere to go but...

The One Who Stays

The One Who Stays

It’s all static on the radio and wavering connections on the television, but The Light cuts...

Leviathanic

Leviathanic

We were running through the tunnel, flying over the rusty tracks in the darkness, out of the...

Down in the dark

Down in the dark

Down in the dark of the wood, down with the decay and the vermin and the maggots crawling among...

Hello is different.

No page numbers. No titles. No table of contents. 

It’s a cultural commentary, a protest against the conventional wisdom, and a call for something more.

A dragon or two

A dragon or two

a dragon or two

I always smile a little brighter at the parades if I’ve slain a dragon or two before the confetti rains down.

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The frame tilts on its side

The frame tilts on its side

The frame tilts on its side, all the way over and under the hills, through the woodlands, past the...

Detective Kovski

Detective Kovski

a short story I  had just returned to my dusty corner on Ninth and Main, two floors up from the...

Take me in The Sienna

Take me in The Sienna

Take me in The Sienna, back to when we were kids and summer skies had nowhere to go but...

The One Who Stays

The One Who Stays

It’s all static on the radio and wavering connections on the television, but The Light cuts...

Leviathanic

Leviathanic

We were running through the tunnel, flying over the rusty tracks in the darkness, out of the...

Down in the dark

Down in the dark

Down in the dark of the wood, down with the decay and the vermin and the maggots crawling among...

Hello is different.

No page numbers. No titles. No table of contents. 

It’s a cultural commentary, a protest against the conventional wisdom, and a call for something more.

Baby it’s cold outside

Baby it’s cold outside

baby it's cold outside

Baby it’s cold outside, white as the midterms on my desk, but in my head it’s a summer’s sky, washing the car with a rag anticipating all the places we’ll go in that red muscle headbangin’ V8 burnin’ rubber. The ceiling fan’s doing 360s like that mixtape from ‘82. I hate sweet tea, it’s as bitter as a misnomer but we’ll throw it in, it completes the picture. It’s still being exposed, down in the darkroom of my mind. She’s got the denim cutoffs and he’s got the aviators on his collar, biplane pulling the festival banners through a sky where the fireworks light the stars.

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The frame tilts on its side

The frame tilts on its side

The frame tilts on its side, all the way over and under the hills, through the woodlands, past the...

Detective Kovski

Detective Kovski

a short story I  had just returned to my dusty corner on Ninth and Main, two floors up from the...

Take me in The Sienna

Take me in The Sienna

Take me in The Sienna, back to when we were kids and summer skies had nowhere to go but...

The One Who Stays

The One Who Stays

It’s all static on the radio and wavering connections on the television, but The Light cuts...

Leviathanic

Leviathanic

We were running through the tunnel, flying over the rusty tracks in the darkness, out of the...

Down in the dark

Down in the dark

Down in the dark of the wood, down with the decay and the vermin and the maggots crawling among...

Hello is different.

No page numbers. No titles. No table of contents. 

It’s a cultural commentary, a protest against the conventional wisdom, and a call for something more.

The Night Hawks

The Night Hawks

The Night Hawks

The Night Hawks sit in the old diner, forty years past its opening, twelve on the Charger parked on the asphalt in the back. Streetlight Cigars and Stubble Like Mount Rushmore hunch over the bar as the bartender washes the last glasses clean and wipes his beaten hands. He was a boxer, back when back-when wasn’t a thing. He’s got the starry night foxtrots pinned on the wall and a dream jar full of change, but his dreamer is long gone. The woman in red and her fedora man laugh long into the night, but all he sees is a window into decades past.

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The frame tilts on its side

The frame tilts on its side

The frame tilts on its side, all the way over and under the hills, through the woodlands, past the...

Detective Kovski

Detective Kovski

a short story I  had just returned to my dusty corner on Ninth and Main, two floors up from the...

Take me in The Sienna

Take me in The Sienna

Take me in The Sienna, back to when we were kids and summer skies had nowhere to go but...

The One Who Stays

The One Who Stays

It’s all static on the radio and wavering connections on the television, but The Light cuts...

Leviathanic

Leviathanic

We were running through the tunnel, flying over the rusty tracks in the darkness, out of the...

Down in the dark

Down in the dark

Down in the dark of the wood, down with the decay and the vermin and the maggots crawling among...

Hello is different.

No page numbers. No titles. No table of contents. 

It’s a cultural commentary, a protest against the conventional wisdom, and a call for something more.

The Artists Of The World

The Artists Of The World

The Artists Of The World

It’s funny how every day, every day The Artists Of The World dream dreams, living their lives up until the end, throwing the dreams to paper, to canvas, to the beat of the drum. It’s funny how every day, every day The Artists Of The World dream dreams, living their lives up until the end, throwing the dreams to paper, to canvas, to the beat of the drum.

     Only to…

          Only to…

               Only to have one stranger stand in the wind and watch for a little while. It isn’t that difficult to find the sadness in the beautiful ocean eyes of a dreamer, of a poet, of a dance and its dancers. They pour their everything into stunning works of firework flowers and rusted windows peering into Providence, just so one passerby might throw in the money for a cup of coffee, just so someone would stop scrolling and pause for the briefest blink, just to capture such a fleeting feeling and try their best to carve its name into the face of The Earth. The very few that are lucky enough to have their names set in silver make it past the barrier of obscurity only for a little while, and then the world moves on to whoever’s next in line.

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The frame tilts on its side

The frame tilts on its side

The frame tilts on its side, all the way over and under the hills, through the woodlands, past the...

Detective Kovski

Detective Kovski

a short story I  had just returned to my dusty corner on Ninth and Main, two floors up from the...

Take me in The Sienna

Take me in The Sienna

Take me in The Sienna, back to when we were kids and summer skies had nowhere to go but...

The One Who Stays

The One Who Stays

It’s all static on the radio and wavering connections on the television, but The Light cuts...

Leviathanic

Leviathanic

We were running through the tunnel, flying over the rusty tracks in the darkness, out of the...

Down in the dark

Down in the dark

Down in the dark of the wood, down with the decay and the vermin and the maggots crawling among...

Hello is different.

No page numbers. No titles. No table of contents. 

It’s a cultural commentary, a protest against the conventional wisdom, and a call for something more.

This Anthem

This Anthem

This Anthem

Let this anthem break down the door and shake The Parthenon.

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The frame tilts on its side

The frame tilts on its side

The frame tilts on its side, all the way over and under the hills, through the woodlands, past the...

Detective Kovski

Detective Kovski

a short story I  had just returned to my dusty corner on Ninth and Main, two floors up from the...

Take me in The Sienna

Take me in The Sienna

Take me in The Sienna, back to when we were kids and summer skies had nowhere to go but...

The One Who Stays

The One Who Stays

It’s all static on the radio and wavering connections on the television, but The Light cuts...

Leviathanic

Leviathanic

We were running through the tunnel, flying over the rusty tracks in the darkness, out of the...

Down in the dark

Down in the dark

Down in the dark of the wood, down with the decay and the vermin and the maggots crawling among...

Hello is different.

No page numbers. No titles. No table of contents. 

It’s a cultural commentary, a protest against the conventional wisdom, and a call for something more.

Yelling at the dragon

Yelling at the dragon

Yelling at the dragon

Maybe it’d be easier if I could sing the same line over and over, but my voice got pretty hoarse from yelling at the dragon.

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The frame tilts on its side

The frame tilts on its side

The frame tilts on its side, all the way over and under the hills, through the woodlands, past the...

Detective Kovski

Detective Kovski

a short story I  had just returned to my dusty corner on Ninth and Main, two floors up from the...

Take me in The Sienna

Take me in The Sienna

Take me in The Sienna, back to when we were kids and summer skies had nowhere to go but...

The One Who Stays

The One Who Stays

It’s all static on the radio and wavering connections on the television, but The Light cuts...

Leviathanic

Leviathanic

We were running through the tunnel, flying over the rusty tracks in the darkness, out of the...

Down in the dark

Down in the dark

Down in the dark of the wood, down with the decay and the vermin and the maggots crawling among...

Hello is different.

No page numbers. No titles. No table of contents. 

It’s a cultural commentary, a protest against the conventional wisdom, and a call for something more.