Mother To Other
Mothers stood in the train station, on the train platform. Who is moving away from whom? What is moving away from what? Stories dismantle themselves
Category: Prose
Convenient
A gunshot in a crowd is a different thing to a gunshot in the country. The acoustics out here baffled your ability to determine in
Haiku Division
He is Haiku Division – rattling out fletchette words on the frontlines; mortar rounds. He can see the Long Prose Division a few hundred feet
Layered Reality Players
Layered Reality Players. Platformational Reality Wars. One hack-rig is trying to work at your space, while you work at theirs. Who can write code fast
Hot Flowers
A hot flower bloomed from Reality Establishment Central Office. Glass shards like windblown seeds carried out on a sudden gust of air stung skin and
Cross Bones
The Jolly Roger unpacked in anyone’s head that crossed the geo-tagged spot. It unfurled like a warning. Carlos had hijacked this Hakim Bey Station a
Wolfing Where
Tomorrow explodes. Yesterday downloads. Today erodes. He is plugged into a Warewolf experiential remix engine and time is splintering into instances that he can’t add
Up And Out From Down And Under
Cock crows. Second sun in the sky. Ravens and angels are wheeling around through each others flight paths, while magpies drop to pick at the
Whizz Dumb
I live inside a parable. I sit atop a mountain and people come and seeks wisdom from me. I write greetings cards and fortune cookies.