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Posts Tagged ‘Arts’

The Last Two Minutes of the Game

“Do the last two minutes matter?” you ask, turn off the game. We all wrestle you for the remote. Later, in your rusted Bug, with red and yellow gumballs spilled and rolling around the floorboards, I stick my hand out the window into the rain to push your broken wipers

back

               and

forth,

back

               and

forth.

<<read more>>

~ Fall 2011 Issue of Grey Sparrow Literary Journal

In 2011, Grey Sparrow was named the Best New Literary Journal of the Year by the Council of Editors of Learned Journals.

Also in the Fall Issue: poetry by Kay Ryan, 16th Poet Laureate of the United States and recipient of the Ruth Lilly Poetry Prize and a Guggenheim Fellowship.

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A Dog and Its Bone

a story about a home invasion debacle involving a Balisong knife, a bottle of Crown, an Old English sheepdog, and one man’s very tall tale

“Their coffee was cold and the room hot, but they hunkered over their cups nevertheless. Mickey scanned the bodies, tables and chairs pressed upon one another by the four brick walls. A brunette in the corner placed her cup on a saucer, looked up from her paper. She lifted her chin at Mickey, trapped his gaze. Mickey looked away and whispered to Christophe, “The details?”…Mickey looked back at the brunette. She had a ring. That’d be a challenge. But, they were feistier with rings on their fingers and never followed you around afterwards…”   <<read more>>

~ November 2011 Issue of Hobo Pancakes: A Humor Journal

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Out just in time for Halloween: a twisted little tale about a woman and her cat, a man with a fish, two dogs, and love within an unstable mind.

It Wasn’t For Myself

“I have done one noble thing in my life, but it wasn’t for myself–it was for the woman I love. And, what wouldn’t one do for love? I guess it was for her cat, too…”   <<read more>>

~ Featured Friday Fiction on October 21, 2011, Black Heart Magazine

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First and Last Day Out of the Asylum

…I pass DO NOT ENTER in flashing neon, in red letters on white-painted metal too, and as “Mrs. Robinson” fades, I buckle my seatbelt and stomp on the gas because there are people on this overcast Sunday freeway who must be shown how to live…   <<read more>>

~ September 2011 Issue of Eclectic Flash

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Severance

The color’s all the rage, you said. I hadn’t believed you. I couldn’t. Not carpet the color of the mashed garden peas you fed to Sheila one tiny spoonful at a time…   <<read more>>

~ September 2011 Issue of Eclectic Flash

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