Category Archives: Boppin’

dimension shift

when the whiskey jack sang he could be a chickadee or a finch or osprey his craft was stand-up heaven on a twig in the forest and the forest obeyed or ignored as it would any chickadee finch or osprey … Continue reading

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New

when a bright yellow crocus magics itself up through the old winter crud we crow with delight for spring has come old birds of fall that used to call black night down tight on summer now sing to light that’s … Continue reading

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Metastasis

On the morning of the fourth day, Joe Toadamundo awoke to find a large fleshy mass lying in bed with him. It was pink and stank of diesel oil. He shrank away from it, pulling covers around him. “You’re hogging … Continue reading

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