Stories tagged flash-prose

Five Things

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I have the right to remain silent. If I waive that right everything I say can and will be used against me like a razor dragged across my neck.


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Some books are like old friends and when you read them, you no longer feel alone.

Hawks and Lime for the Pastoral Sun

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The hawks alone gliding by the sun. Ancient and new and knowing. Not connected to some organic whole as in pollyanna fairy tales. But full of right solitude each. Apart and far off and always traveling. Farther and farther still. …


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Before the paint spikes Coney Island to the wind, I walk home through the strum of a shield, colder than the one he left behind. For the hour I sprawl along the sidewalk in her laugh, crater's shadows for Wonder Wheel, he is midnight sun in The Last Waltz. Where the glow…