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Hard-Drinkin' Housewives
LaFortune was playing a one-man game of 8-ball when I came into the Grand Boulevard Tavern from the billowing white outside. Dusted off my jacket, ordered two fingers of whiskey and cupped the firewater on ice in my hand, the amber of it turning shades of ugly against the churn of color off the jukebox. LaFortune and I were the only ones inside the ( Read more... ) -
The Last Sane Man on Earth
The last sane man on earth is seated in the red leather caress of a jazzish lounge, taking his sweet time. He knows he’s of the rarest breed and what to do but drink his time away? Up above on the street’s a massive body moving and O how they’re rushing to the train across the platforms together, mashing on the busses, ambling along the busy ( Read more... ) -
Nocturnal Emissions
It was while seated atop the parking lot concrete blocks up the cracked road between an Anglican church locked down with bars on the windows, and one Guy St. Chinese restaurant that the first of the snow fell. For as far as I could see up and down the path it would seem as though it started here, as though the shed feathers from Heaven’s lonely ( Read more... ) -
Merchant Li and the Beggars
There once was a wealthy rice merchant named Li, who kept his riches to himself. Every year he would walk to the dark and muddy Chang Jiang River, wearing his most prized jewellery to see the dragon boat race. Every year, Li’s friends would admire the gold and bright stones hanging off of him: “Li! This ruby looks larger than last year’s! Your ( Read more... ) -
The Bourbon Tabernacle Choir
tall brush grass waves ( Read more... ) -
Technosquid Eats Parliament
At the sound of a howl at the nightway door, the trees quiver and shed leaves 'til forming a mass of fallen flotsam to be carried in the wind, down the path of this dark brood of a place. The nightway door stands in silence, an arch stone still among the rage of the shadows. Even the snow dressing the floor is black littered shrapnel, glittering, ( Read more... ) -
On The Way To Dawson
So, here's the cumulative amount of writing done on the road to Dawson. Owen and I had some good times and not a single bad one. I hope that all of you that read this really enjoy the journey encapsulated in the words; even now when I read it all back to myself, memories are flashing through my head of the turbulent time. Here we go ( Read more... ) -
You Would If You Love Me
Ol’ Daisy came wandering into the back of the loft around one a.m., stumbling with clicking paws. She puttered up and slumped down into the shag carpet. Now and then her ears would perk to the slight sound around the space; the amp clicking on, the pluck of a string, the wail of a paramedic roughneck Jean d’Armes wailing down the street ( Read more... ) -
Little German Sailor Kid
Were this life the simple one, something easily understandable as a log cabin in the center of a field, this life would be a simple one. If every person you would see on the street be there, always there, at exact times in exact places. The same cars driving down the same roads, bumping to and fro when hitting the same potholes in the same pressed ( Read more... )
