Requiem For a Surgeon’s Son

Barry slows down and approaches the audi parked on the shoulder of the road with the driver’s door open. There is a motorcycle parked behind it and two men are fighting. Or rather, one man is beating up another. On the ground is an old man who appears to be unconscious. His face is badly…

The Controller

“Everyone likes Gwen,” exclaimed Marion, the accounts payable clerk. “I don’t know how anyone couldn’t like her. It would take a mean sort of person.” “For sure,” added Tina whose desk was across the aisle from Marion. In front of Marion sat Jill, who upon hearing the conversation strained her eyes hard to the paper…

The Crowd in the Cage

You are an entertainer. The crowd thinks they are looking at you but you are looking at them. It is it, the crowd, that is in the cage. And as any animal tends to act when packed together… We are not a unique species in that we can collaborate, corroborate, coordinate, yet sometimes choose not…

A Glitch in a Subroutine

“Why have I been summoned to Dirtville?” demanded the lord. “Is it so urgent that you cannot email me your petition like everybody else?” “Sorry lord” said Jason. “ I didn’t quite know how to put it into words.” “Then it isn’t the usual petition for money, avoidance of catastrophe, needing help out of catastrophe…

You Call Yourself a Writer

Originally posted on Roaming Snyder:
by Ronald J. Hoffman Your hands are shaking as you button your collar tight. You lift your chin to the wind to blow away the smoke. You flick your butt into the creek imagining what things were like before you were broke. The life you lead would be no comfort…

You Call Yourself a Writer

by Ronald J. Hoffman Your hands are shaking as you button your collar tight. You lift your chin to the wind to blow away the smoke. You flick your butt into the creek imagining what things were like before you were broke. The life you lead would be no comfort to the person you were…

The Many Headed Reasoner

Originally posted on Roaming Snyder:
I hear the voices of words in juxtaposition I decipher with a creation of reasoning in ways which the impetus was never intended I fictionalize elements of theatrics in my head and feel my way about as though I have intention yet, when I wake up scattered from a dream,…

Walking Home At 3AM

Pigeons scatter in the alley when I throw them crumbs, someone must have scared them too much to trust me today. Ahead, a drunk exits a bar just as I am approaching. He doesn’t see me behind him as he staggers from one side of the sidewalk to the other. When I try to go…

When I See These Boots

All I think of when I see these boots is a hand full of dimes squeaking at me through the leather and broken soles that seem to grind my feet to the ground All I see is a row of wooden picture frames and I count them, subtract them, divide them into the hours that…

Dusty Roads

Dusty Roads by Ronald J. Hoffman   While I walked dusty roads alone as a little boy, wandering the fields with an eye on home, I would wonder what would become of this place in my heart, would it turn to stone, hardened and discolored, or drip love like from the heart of a new…