|
Art, Fiction & Other Imaginings
|
|
The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
By Madi Maiolo  i.
it starts with baby shoes & miniature baby bows, to athletic shorts, then spaghetti straps & teeny dresses & small short skirts.
0 Comments
The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
By Charlene Langfur
The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
By VA Wiswell  Trigger Warning:
Suicide content warning. July 2022 Violence follows me. Like a shadow. Like a lost dog. Like a nightmare. I. The Nightmare: July 2012 A dust storm blowing death My sister Vivian was singing “Landslide” from top to bottom, over and over, as we walked along the shoulder of the empty two-lane road after a full day of swimming at the lake. We were almost home when a gust, hot and sudden, spun the dirt ground beneath us into a miniature cyclone. My sister dropped my hand. Through a gritty veil, I watched her jog toward the center line, chasing after her wind-stolen hat. Just as she caught up to it, a black and silver mirage appeared on the crest of the hill. Seconds passed as days. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
By Ghia Vitale  Here lies the hopes of a dead king
and all of the treasure he lost. What once was regal is crumbling from reign to ruins, crushed and mossed. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
By B.A. Van Sise  (J.T.E, 1982-2020)
I guess I just miss my friend who, in the end, was too bright a star not to explode. still, your The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
By Stephen Druce  On planet Mordazium,
circling flesh machines grind their juggernaut limbs like cathedral castanets, The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
By Stephen Druce  The sunsets played their violins -
the alley cats on double bass, the tree tops plucked on mandolins - the night time trumpets knew their place, The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
By Emily Keverne  Rubbing, like a magic lamp, the foam
On her daughter’s hairy scalp, she soothed The rind where the child matured Like a waxed cheddar in a ripening room And she kneaded – she needed – To mould her ugly. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
By Emily Keverne  He plays for hearts
With juicy bait Where the waterfall darts In the midnight lake. When a living heart The waters break The fishing man carts It to his plate. |
