The Keeper looks up from his desk at a flicker of lights.
“Spirits grifting the flux, even death can’t take them off the grid. I can’t complain, when I kick it rest assured I’ll be back to give my old lady a scare or two. When she falls down the stairs, it’ll be I who pushed her.”
Just as his gaze returns to the desk there’s a pull at the door.
“He was supposed to be here an hour ago,” Nezbit said, turning to his friends.
“What makes you think he’s coming back?” replied Bennet.
“Because he said he would, alright,” Nezbit returned with more force than his small body could conjure.
The gang of teenagers at the base of the dock looked at Nez staring into the water, lost in his own reflection…
In a world of reminders, reflections of life’s unknowable center pass with utmost familiarity. It may seem obvious after the fact, self aware creatures are bound by the light they see, yet being of light their understanding of its spectrum is only limited by the spectrum itself…
“You’re here again?”
A demon of ember skin sits gargoyle on the lunch table cover watching Timmy Schwartz walk to chemistry class.
“What do you want?”
Sparks fly off the grin that displays a set of charcoal teeth, “I’m here to show you your future…”
The initial burst of laughter startles, plexiglass didn’t see you there.
Jumping out of my seat at the top of the track, reaching for the
volume knob, the worst passing before appropriate reduction.
Why is it every time the engine turns over laughter fills my cabin?
A corner crowd across from pier 39 in the bay stands in puzzled admiration, witness to a king of pop cover performed by an unlikely pair of troubled souls….
At it again an ole used to be somebody’s sailor goes walkin between a pair of century old dampers carryin martini olive eyes, soot curls, and a dirty mouth she’d put to use if it weren’t holdin such a cute little grin…
Does the world speak through your eyes? To know is to know anything at all. No fantastic beast, a spice caught mid drizzle down forearm scruff posing to the onion if the slice was worth the cry…
Developing over time is how most things go, this collection was no different. Retrieving a blanket to be laid down in a starlit park I consider the stickers placed on the back window of my camper shell. As our minds do I created a story for their arrangement.
Arriving under the marquee when we did by reordering our mural viewing up Main street before a premeditated pass by the tour bus parked in front of the Ventura Theatre. Just as the former frontman, now frontwoman of Against Me!
The world was all a treasure quest. Anything and everything could be where the answer lies. “Blake Vincent Kueny,” spoken amiss, and the world unraveled. The secret withheld in a few spoken words. A crease in time, words tear the flesh of reality.
We walked into a social experiment analyzing things as they unfold.
The asphalt was cold under my feet as Emmie and I scurried across Highway 1. We found our path in the shade of the trees, avoiding little acorns that had fallen from above. Two women were on the bench near the pay phone as we approached.