Match (1977)
A story I wrote in 1977 at age 14, but for whatever else fairly pointed as early allegory! In embarrassment and nostalgia, I offer it here. “The game had no time limit. It ended when it ended. Nothing else could be said.”
Poetry for the Wall
A flash prose reverie on what we hang on to, what we obscure.
Not What I Meant
Flash fiction, when it’s hard to get past.
Predictive Text
Right now I’d rather be stupid and alive than, well, let me talk this through. But if this somehow gets to you today, it’s it’s Tuesday then people then get people up here, OK? I mean right now. But.
From Chevy to Ford
“Okay. Well, I’m just gonna say that your popular media inspired me to a new level of decadence. I mean, I’m like a Darkseid MMA version of the WWE. You know the word ‘turpitude?’”
Last Straw
“It’s like you said. That’s just marketing. Just story. I can drink this Sholi. That’s all right. But I know it doesn’t change anything.”
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