Work might get in the way of resting on your laurels. Work might take your hangover sideways toward illness. Work might play with its guns as you've cleaned out the sheets. Work might pace around screaming "more socialist seats!" Work might leave you in stitches, and cry out, "you fool!" As you waltz passed the … Continue reading What Work Might To Do You
It's March and you can't find your sunglasses, but it doesn't matter because the sun isn't shining. It's midnight and you're awake and you don't know why, but the moon is out and smiling and the street lights are on and it all makes you wish you had your sunglasses. Frozen in time, the world … Continue reading Midnight Without Sunglasses (after Frank O’Hara)
This door keeps out the sounds of the hallway. This door can hear every word uttered here. This door demands our attention when slammed. This door swings on its hinges, rusted. This door's in tune with the walls at its sides This door speaks not, but listens carefully. This door relies on its framing, unsplintered. … Continue reading This Door
high noon, moon shines. low eyes swoon swine. oh my sides shift up and moon drifts call out shout miff cloud six signs fix bold minds drift and though i don't shower, i drip. so, does the child whimper? does the mother kit swiftly? do the hobbies meander into bimonthly streaks? where do dig shepherds … Continue reading battle tested
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It's been a long time since I felt completely whole, ya know. Like, I wake up in the morning and I make coffee and I smoke cigarettes, and the rest of the day I yearn for that ritual - that simple doing of something that makes complete sense to me. I dunno. It's bland to … Continue reading The Devil Inside Me (a short story)
"Yellow is my opposite color," she said through the bit of sleep still entangling her. I laughed for a moment and asked her what she meant, but consciousness wasn't around her enough for her to hear me. "And what about blue?" I asked through smiling teeth. Her eyes opened and looked at me before she … Continue reading Top O’ The Mornin’ To Ya (a short story)
I suppose I should begin rightly, and tell you that my name is Mason and I am the one writing this. If nothing else from here on out is to be known, it is that I and no one else is writing these words. These words are mine and no one else’s. That's important. From … Continue reading Disparity’s Cohort (a short story)
David usually leapt at the prospect of going to the park, but today was an odd day for him. It was raining. "There's no point in going to the park in the rain," he thought, "because I'll not be able to feed the pigeons." Pigeons - as you may know - don't like the rain. … Continue reading A Pigeon in the Rain (a short story)
My name is Michael McGuire. I am a 30-year-old songwriter, poet, and author. This is the brief story of why I have yet to graduate from college. To start with childhood, I spent most of my time alone, listening to baseball games on the radio, reading or playing guitar in my bedroom. I was a … Continue reading a college admissions essay i didn’t need to submit
It is October 2017. New York City. The Borough of Queens. I'm on a stone path which leads to the train station, the Long Island Railroad. I'm smoking a cigarette. A man approaches. "Money. Give it to me." He says. I look up and I see his eyes, narrowed yet wide and unhinged. "Brother, I've … Continue reading The Interaction (a very short story)
Fade In 1990s. A man about the age of 30 sits upright on his bed, his pillows propped behind him. The phone rings twice. He answers. -Hello? Voice on the other end -Hi, yes. I'm calling to see if your refrigerator is running. Is it running? The man smiles, knowing full well to sidestep the … Continue reading The Prank Call (a one act play)
