Bakers and Butchers

Bakers and Butchers Two voices loosely strung together, symbiotic each with unknown origins prying forward with the least resistance through the conundrum The faces of old historians are cupcakes, marshmallows cotton candy and meat chewing, spitting, clamoring figuring, weaving, blurring what is the denomination of higher concerns that compels us to incite the bakers and…

That Car Passing

“Did it seem like that the car that just passed did so with a sort of purposeless intent just to get in front of you, as though it were driven by someone being pulled into the context of your perception?” “Sure, I saw a ham sandwich and a cup of coffee being held as I…

The Water Gives Up It’s Dead

“If you wanna live stop whining. Whaddaya wanna live for anyway? Your mother ain’t dyin’, and even if she wuz she ain’t savin’ yuh. Now git on my hip and don’t be strayin’” Dad thought I talked too much. At least it always bothered him that I never agreed. Maybe he has a point. It…

Another C-

Comments scribbled on Ralph’s assigned poem on Being in Professor Shill’s creative writing course. Ralph again received a C-. “The corpse within me burning leaps where my shadow falls.” (what?) History=Is. Existence crosses the threshold, advances into the space between was and is, and then 3 feet ahead. Non Conventional. knownothingness? Not nihilation but becoming….