June 24, 2009

. . .

Posted by dean at 07:02 PM

June 22, 2009

Tiny Obscene Florist, Page 79.

An ad for cigars appears in 100,000 newspapers; sales of that brand increase by 3% for a short time thereafter.

A new play receives a viciously negative review in a theatrical journal that prints 500 copies; the playwright shoots himself.

Who's the better writer?

Posted by dean at 01:56 AM

June 21, 2009

Ultrasound : "Floodlit World".

It's a Polaroid instant.
Pure.
Electric.
Painful joy.

Stare at the mess.
Take in the awful,
guilt-ridden,
decaying debris.

Must get a cleaner,
Or a kleenex.

Tomorrow is another day.

Posted by dean at 03:52 AM

June 20, 2009

Sheffield Suddenly Found Its Feet Moving, Its Arms Flailing.

It was dancing all right, but what with Thatcher and everything, it honestly seemed to be dancing to destruction.

Destroyed By Gods

Posted by dean at 08:35 PM

June 19, 2009

Mantras, Issue 26.

'I recall the smell of soot and iron. The sound of mud larks screaming obscenities at each other. I recall a horse dying one hot summer's day. Dropping where it stood. I recall chimneys. I recall a girl without a jaw.'

Posted by dean at 05:47 PM

June 14, 2009

Personally, I Lack Any Sort Of Self-Loathing.

And I fucking hate that about myself.

Posted by dean at 03:05 AM

June 07, 2009

. . .

  

Posted by dean at 06:37 AM

Feed


Main