Kronos Got Drunk – Part Four
Short Story “Seems horribly cliché,” I said. “What does?” asked Prometheus. He seemed offended. “The Greek God of time living in the most famous clock tower in the world — even I could’ve thought of...
Tagged: writer
Give Me a Beer
Poem It was only me, the pen, the paper. Perfect. Let’s have a drink, maybe two? What do you think? Oh Muse, let’s meet in Paradise, I want to see you next to...
Kronos got Drunk – Part Twelve (Finale)
Serial Fiction I watched with mouth agape as the Olympians descended into Elysium. They were dressed in magnificent robes and armors, carrying shimmering spears and swords and shields. Hermes, Artemis, Athena, Apollo — all...
Kronos Got Drunk – Part Eleven
Serial Fiction Three hours passed before Jonathan Hughes emerged from the apartment. He stumbled down the few steps on the stoop, gripping the handrail like a newborn clings to its mother. A shadow greeted...
Kronos Got Drunk — Part Ten
Serial Fiction The titan lord of time looked at me with cold, hard eyes. “You,” he said. His voice shook the air like a thunder clap. “You are a fool. You sought power over wisdom. You...
Kronos Got Drunk – Part Eight
Serial Fiction We sat without speaking for a time. The restaurant was mostly empty. The only sounds were the clink-clink of cutlery on plates and straws being slurped. These were occasionally punctuated with loud, indeterminate sounds...
Kronos Got Drunk – Part Seven
Serial Fiction A shadow paced in an alley behind a small apartment somewhere in Canada. His guest was late. This amused the shadow more than anything else; His guest dripped irony where ever he...
Elena Ferrante: The Story of a Name
Non-Fiction What does Elena Ferrante have in common with Mark Twain? How about George Sand, George Eliot, C.S. Forester, Ford Maddox Ford? Who are these people? Aaron Wolfe, Anthony Burgess, Anne Perry, Ayn Rand,...
Thought Inkling
Poem Smoke slithers along the window-edge, Like vaporous snakes; Half alive in the pale light. A feeling like cricket legs Twitches at the corner of my eyes. I’ve got a cigarette clenched Between...
A Snowstorm of Paper
Poem A snowstorm of paper at my feet: It fell there from my scissors’ teeth Last night, in a shower of inky sleet. In piles on the floor lay my reams of wreckage...
