Author: Dario

Welcome to your new artistic fix.

Empty Rooms, by Les Bohem

As all partings foreshadow the great final one, so empty rooms, bereft of a familiar presence, mournfully whisper what your room and what mine must one day be. – Charles Dickens, Bleak House. In the center of Verona is a Roman amphitheater. Operas are performed there on summer nights. I took a bus from the…
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The Red Lemon, by Elizabeth Cunningham

You’re finally awake. Black mold adorns the edges of your worn shoes. Hardened intestines litter the damp cement floor. There’s a pale hand next to you, with its fingers still curled around a light yellow eyeball. Your mind is still wondering if this is a nightmare. Soon, a realization sets in and you look down.…
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Ally, by Zeke Jarvis

         Dirk had prepared carefully for the protest. He positioned himself near the entrance to Adult Arcade’s parking lot, away from the door, because the space near the doorway was already taken up by the anti-porn protesters. Dirk didn’t want to be mistaken for one of those judgemental, close-minded people. When he…
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Looking For A Ride Nowhere, by Scott Wozniak

She had the devil in her eyes and smelled like Orchids. She was the perfect combination of crazy and jaded that tugs on the strings of my sickness. To every question she asked I gave the wrong answer. For once I was happy not to taste the flames a woman like her could offer.  …
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Cat on Main Street, by Ashley Sgro

Coarse fur from heavy tires. Missing head. Flesh pressed into loose asphalt. An oval of blood dried across your stomach. But your one arm reaches up to flag its white paw. Open and empty, it’s signaling me to stop traffic, to barge onto the roadway, to save. You are waiting for me to tent myself…
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Step Up Your Gift Game with Tips from Pro Wrappers (bow not included), by Michele McDannold

what do i write anymore but epic craigslist masterpieces that get flagged for being impossible actionable items only please the holidays came and went mourning for the dead mourning for the living we eat til it hurts even if it already did missed connections misunderstandings the world’s a mess but there’s always the clearance aisle…
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Jesus Ahead, by Larry Thacker

There’s a church of some denomination, from mountain Catholics to Saturday night snake-handlers, on every other corner of town. It makes you wonder how such a diversely churched place could crank out such a constant stream of arrests from drugs, violence, and theft.   You find a perfect rendition of the cross on a chipping…
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the other he binds my arms, by Gary Lundy

the other he binds my arms above my head. legs slightly spread bound as well. the purity of white cotton rope. mouth gagged eyes covered heightened sense of hearing. as well as smell and touch. nod yes if this remains all right. up and down. nice meeting you like this. are there others in the…
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Even when we didn’t have anything, we had something – by Shirley Jones-Luke

Hardwood floor, stained, edges charred black years of praying, of playing, of crying Cobwebs in the windows, roaches on the walls, mice commuting between rooms, remnants of their travels cover our feet Wild cats commune in the backyard, meowing at the moon, stray dogs lurk nearby, growling, hungry for dinner The kitchen is quiet except…
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Pause, by .Chitrita

my lips had none of the finesse of smooth jazz or electric guitar, instead, it had all the pizzazz of slipping record and sideway stream rocket ships there, there in the heat of liftoff choking on smoke I felt myself unsticking, unfurling like hair underwater slowly, softly, untangled petals and jellyfish so easily bruise your…
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