by: Jacqueline Linton
Something undone, eyelids flutter
Stubbornly trying to shutter
My eyes from the tasks of the night.
I lie awake with no insight.
A nagging feeling joins the clutter,
Rattling in my mind—utter
Instinct wedges in mind’s gutter
Giving me nebulous foresight.
Something undone—
“Was it a meeting?” I mutter.
The cleaning, a thank you letter
A kind word unsaid, the dome light?
A poem that I need to write?
A life’s course wanting a rudder?
Something undone…
by: Jon Swihart
Life is the experience of being flung through space at incredible speeds while frequently needing to urinate. It’s probably also worth noting that there are no minds. Only bodies.
(Source: superbuffetfiction)
1 by: Jacqueline Linton
aphasia, n.
Loss of speech, partial or total, or loss of power to understand written or spoken language, as a result of disorder of the cerebral speech centres.
June
I see your world in your eyes,
As I stumble through an introduction,
Laying waste to your native tongue.
You mirror fear and uncertainty back to me.
Before long, we greet one another with a smile.
You looking “mejor, poco y poco.”
I never told you what was wrong,
Because we never knew.
Our goodbye fluent,
Hugs, tears, your sister’s blessings on
My hands, my car, my family.
You with “Gracias”
Me with a bewildered “De nada.”
by: Madden Swan
The sun hadn’t yet risen above her neighbor’s rooftop, and yet Judy was already rummaging through her vanity to find her anxiety medication. The movers were coming in a few hours to haul away the last of George’s possessions, and she didn’t know if she could handle the emptiness. She had already marked all of the cardboard boxes that belonged to him with pink sticky notes. Actually, she had marked them morning after morning the past few weeks in a pill-induced haze. Now, the bottle of pills was almost gone.
by: Jon Swihart
I’m the captain, you see. I’ve got a ship, and it’s too late to turn back. It is not a large craft, but it will suffice. The hull is still young, and the sheets taught. It will hold back the wind and the dangerous sea. To the men who peddle in credit and coin, I’ve put what’s good of my name for her, that she might go faster and farther and someday be all mine. She will certainly suffice.
(Source: superbuffetfiction)
by: Jamie Ousterout
There are ten different names
for a group of cats:
clowder
clutter
glaring
pounce
dout
nuisance
kendle
kindle
litter
destruction
(destruction only describes a group of wild cats).
But wouldn’t it be fun to exclaim:
What a destruction!
over the lilac bushes
to my neighbor who breeds calico kitties?
(Source: superbuffetfiction)
Dinosaur fossils, plant remains. Everything is the root of something else. The land will eventually push itself into the soft folds of the brain. Take a piece of the stone that has slipped off the side of the rock and begin to carve white lines into its red surface. The dust is like music folding into the rough hum of the landscape. Note their redness among the frozen stalks of grass. Watch the cat whose fur is lines of red sediment. Call the cat simply cat. Wait for a name with history. Occupy a space in the sky and earth simultaneously. Pinpoint the birth of trance. Listen. The thaw is necessary for these grasses to grow. Dark sediment in the oxygen-rich atmosphere. From this distance, the blue sky turns the color of dust. Music, like places, always has a past. Use echoes and reverberations, moving into an entirely new space. Small sounds become big and big sounds become small. Slide off this world and move into an imaginary one.
by: Jon Swihart
Like all good heroes, Roger had a date with destiny.
“So, riddle me this, Rog,” Quentin said as the empty shot glass slammed with his wet fist on the bar. “If a proctologist fucks his wife in the ass, does she need insurance?”
Roger also had a date with Quentin.
by: Jamie Ousterout
You ever wonder who comes up with the names on street signs? What bold set of folks felt inclined to bestow titles upon our great country’s rivers, streams, cities and towns? I’m sure you suppose that many of them were stolen from the Indians, and I reckon you’re right. Now, for instance, there’s the Great Pee Dee River and the Little Pee Dee River that the interstate crisses and crosses. And sure, there are places and streets named after famous folks. Just try to cross three county lines without passing a single MLK Boulevard (or Drive).
by: J.E. Ranch
“Now that we’re here, I want to start this thing off rightly. You will have the first opportunity, mister …” the Magistrate cleared her throat as she shuffled through the papers placed in front of her. She raised one sheet toward the yellowed window to read it, “is it mister Erin?”
