the short short story

Words have a certain beauty about them. It doesn't take a three-hundred page novel or sixty stanza poem to convey that beauty. Using no more than a paragraph, one can conjure the same power as a book, and require the reader to use just as much, if not more, imagination.

This is not a new literary genre but it is relatively unknown. Most of these are original short short stories. Those that are not are credited otherwise. When I think of new ones I write them.

I've included a lot of poetry and songwriting as well, especially recently. I hope you enjoy it all.

Seeing Itself (a poem)

And oh, the little yellow leaves are Spikes inside the fluid mind
swirling on air as a tornado of ideas
Rattle and roll, the tin can on concrete is a scattered brain
the metallic jostling of thought
And hi, basal bellowing steam whistle from the water's edge
is almost all you can hear
It is inundation of things for focus
And grey is the sky as grey as the matter
but only when (the matter is) dead
Otherwise sunsets are pink until the end
So see, the smoke wrap the finger of a homeless man
Wandering, wondering
the thoughts wrap the moving mind

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)