Picks of the Month

January

Gold cherry
Poem of the week
Pick of the Month

Triptych 1: Mass

Mother in a mantilla rubs her spit dampened handkerchief across a child’s face, not clean enough for God, who lives inside and judges us all. She...

November

Gold cherry
Pick of the Month

into the grey afternoon

In the woods with the child his impotent rage subsided some. He breathed deeply among the trees and crouched with the child by huge fungi and fallen...

October

Cherry
Pick of the Month

Tattoo man

walks down street, shaved head bowed - shoulders slumped and leathered features weathered brown. Dog end loose between the yellowed digits - sucks...
Gold cherry
Pick of the Month

Remembering Molly

This is from a series of prose vignettes I've written, all of which tie into one story. All entries from the series are semi-biographical, this one in particular reflecting a real situation and based on real people, one of whom was me and the other, a prostitute named Molly. It's rather long but I couldn't split it appropriately so bravo and thank you if you make it to the end!

August

Cherry
Story of the week
Pick of the Month

Please, leave the light on. ( The reply)

As always, there are two sides to every story. Here's the reply... Dear Robert, Your letter was forwarded onto me by the new tenants of Jenny’s old...
Cherry
Poem of the week
Pick of the Month

running in the rain

There is something compelling and slightly unsettling the way the rain strikes my face hits my cheeks and my lips. Droplets drum a delightful pattern...

July

June

Gold cherry
Story of the week
Pick of the Month

The Sewing Machine

The Sewing Machine As a young man, I was fond of walking holidays and particularly liked the wilds of Scotland, covering vast distances by foot. They...
1 likes

May

Gold cherry
Pick of the Month

A Room In Chungking

On the gritty wall askew in sultry disrepair, hangs Hokusai’s Great Wave. Almost a window once perhaps, this place has won it over. Below on crumpled...
1 likes
Gold cherry
Pick of the Month

Gave it to the sea

The cut between these times was such that I thought it possible I was living in an afterlife. In louder places we sat in filthy messes, plates and...

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