Image Curve Blog
Ode to Bacon
Art Poem Those faces, blurred and smudged as if an artist’s finger had passed over the surface of the paper. What horrors lurk inside your psyche so that you see the world in...
The Baker, The Butcher and The Brewer, Part Four – The Bottle 5
Serial Fiction These dirty streets inhaled millions of tourists only to exhale them back into the good warm world. They could go down on their list now and recharge their cameras. More pictures,...
Animal Dilemmas – Flying Fox Wild Ass
Short Story The Wild Ass ran through the tall grass high on adrenalin. So extreme was the melange of mind clouding body chemicals that the Ass did not feel the pain sourcing from...
Reunion of Death – Part Five
Serial Mystery Chapter 10 Eight people gathered in a big house in central Missouri to finish planning their high school reunion, and now one of them was dead. Rita and Christina sat next...
The Only Hope
Hope Poem They’d almost killed me. I saw them coming, grinning, shouting. The sun was down, the sky was frowning, the moon was an evil clown. I knew I was being watched, and...
What’s Next
Poem What’s Next? I had a day I worked Did something for the world Gave someone my time Got myself paid Everything was fine I came home And wondered I fed myself Learned...
This Year’s Christmas Tree
Haibun Deep Evergreen. Full. Red and gold balls and bells; tops with gilded bands; Russian-esque spires all around. Four sets of lights; the white nina doll ornaments Mira loves. The giant bow. Our...
A Christmas Walk
Poem The blooms have blown; Fall birds have flown, Something secret in the days has changed from warm to cold And the young woman in me feels it too, Chill air makes her...
Let the Girls Run
Poem Let the girls run and play untethered like little boys before they are told to cease and be like little girls. For now, let them swirl and swoop and dive like thrushes...
The Baker, The Butcher and The Brewer, Part Four – The Bottle 4
Serial Fiction One last frivolous history of myself, your humble narrator, before I focus entirely on the Brewer. It started with an old man. His hair and beard were evenly grey. His eyes...
That Thing That Never Happened – Part One
Short Story We sat down and I let her order for me. I told her I could only speak kitchen French, which was a roundabout way of saying I spoke Spanish. She laughed...
