Posts Tagged: writing

what did the maid think when she found broken glass in the rubbish?

I wrote this story yesterday, before sunrise, before I had to wake the kid up and drive him to school, before my customary breakfast of fruit and granola bowl at a cafe where they play soppy 80s music and let

what did the maid think when she found broken glass in the rubbish?

I wrote this story yesterday, before sunrise, before I had to wake the kid up and drive him to school, before my customary breakfast of fruit and granola bowl at a cafe where they play soppy 80s music and let

the butterfly collector

Here’s the link to my latest flash fiction on Hijacked Amygdala.  It’s about infidelity, the least original of sins. Also have a look at brilliant art and poetry from Anna Spoon. It blows the mind.   the butterfly collector It

the butterfly collector

Here’s the link to my latest flash fiction on Hijacked Amygdala.  It’s about infidelity, the least original of sins. Also have a look at brilliant art and poetry from Anna Spoon. It blows the mind.   the butterfly collector It

correspondence 9.9.16

It is ten o’clock where I am, at a cafe, on an island down south, where a Thai cook is watching television, having already prepared my breakfast. It is low season, and in the course of the day, I am the only one he will see.

correspondence 9.9.16

It is ten o’clock where I am, at a cafe, on an island down south, where a Thai cook is watching television, having already prepared my breakfast. It is low season, and in the course of the day, I am the only one he will see.

ernesto

Originally posted on hijacked amygdala:
art by deger bakir You wore a skirt, it was purple, a favourite, its lace fringe limp against your brown thighs. And a pink translucent blouse, the top buttons undone from which a crucified Jesus…

ernesto

Originally posted on hijacked amygdala:
art by deger bakir You wore a skirt, it was purple, a favourite, its lace fringe limp against your brown thighs. And a pink translucent blouse, the top buttons undone from which a crucified Jesus…

it takes half an hour to get home

She slides her feet forward so her scarred limbs stretch between the legs of standing passengers.

it takes half an hour to get home

She slides her feet forward so her scarred limbs stretch between the legs of standing passengers.

don’t forget the alcohol

if the next forty years
are anything like the last
chop off my son’s fingers

don’t forget the alcohol

if the next forty years
are anything like the last
chop off my son’s fingers

at 6am on June 21

rain early morning
i’m flying over potholes
chasing after you.

at 6am on June 21

rain early morning
i’m flying over potholes
chasing after you.

correspondence 17.6.16

  From: Babe <listentothebabe@mail.com> To: Gordon Flanders <gordonflanders@mail.com> Date: Friday, June 17, 2016 at 9:39 AM Subject: the way the rain smells Dear G I’ve been waiting for the rains to come since early May. The locals say that this

correspondence 17.6.16

  From: Babe <listentothebabe@mail.com> To: Gordon Flanders <gordonflanders@mail.com> Date: Friday, June 17, 2016 at 9:39 AM Subject: the way the rain smells Dear G I’ve been waiting for the rains to come since early May. The locals say that this

dead things

Dead Things: My flash fiction piece for the week on Hijacked Amygdala. Proceed with caution.

dead things

Dead Things: My flash fiction piece for the week on Hijacked Amygdala. Proceed with caution.

atomic love

your effect on me i don’t recognise myself gravity died when you rejigged my molecules i breathe in your atmosphere.

atomic love

your effect on me i don’t recognise myself gravity died when you rejigged my molecules i breathe in your atmosphere.

the local

You had not spoken to anyone in weeks. Nothing of any consequence beyond the polite thank you, keep the change, I’d like a cappuccino please. These interactions were your only connection to the world, the only proof you still existed,

the local

You had not spoken to anyone in weeks. Nothing of any consequence beyond the polite thank you, keep the change, I’d like a cappuccino please. These interactions were your only connection to the world, the only proof you still existed,

a monstrous organ

Originally posted on hijacked amygdala:
When you opened your eyes, a vein in your left temple had grown an organ, a heart. It beat rhythmically, and you wondered how long before it consumed you and whether, as it did, it…

a monstrous organ

Originally posted on hijacked amygdala:
When you opened your eyes, a vein in your left temple had grown an organ, a heart. It beat rhythmically, and you wondered how long before it consumed you and whether, as it did, it…

mum said there were no monsters

but they came out from under fitted sheets,
unhooked themselves from steel
hangers,
the ironing board that slipped out of a little cupboard,
mouthed
lyrics to Michael Jackson
when he was black

mum said there were no monsters

but they came out from under fitted sheets,
unhooked themselves from steel
hangers,
the ironing board that slipped out of a little cupboard,
mouthed
lyrics to Michael Jackson
when he was black

elastic phantasm

Originally posted on hijacked amygdala:
collage by Deger Bakir Kate and I were the only ones on the beach. The rains were over but the sky was still gray and people were afraid to come out. Even the seagulls stayed…

elastic phantasm

Originally posted on hijacked amygdala:
collage by Deger Bakir Kate and I were the only ones on the beach. The rains were over but the sky was still gray and people were afraid to come out. Even the seagulls stayed…