Fiction & Poetry

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Brennan is drunk.

I went past him on the bus. I could only see his feet, but I knew it was a him.

“Cecil the Lion died of auto-erotic asphyxiation,”

Short-notice tasked to take minutes in meeting. Don’t know how. Never done it before. Will make long notes now and hammer into shape later.

Everything is happening. Everything.

Nothing survives but the grind / half a century of struggle
coalescing into a point / moment after moment after moment.

I slept in a gaming café on campus and dreamt of killing spiders in empty apartments.

The single-point agenda meeting had quickly reached an impasse following the company coming under fire.

He had turned into a cat sometime in the night.

janey is on her hands and knees
and the room is a chorus
of gutter sounds and flies unzipping