P.S. Gear's Blog, page 71
March 27, 2016
The Shot (Flash Fiction)
He squirmed in the leather swivel chair, looking like shriveled goblin king perched on his scavenged thrown. One moment he crossed his left leg over the right and the next right over left. Each was preceded by a squeak from the metal and concluded with a soft moan from the leather.
His fingers held my photograph so tightly I started to worry about whether I’d have to reprint it. I’d taken the shot to buff up my portraiture portfolio and hadn’t thought much of it. Definitely didn’t think we’d...
March 24, 2016
March 22, 2016
March 21, 2016
neil-gaiman:
chrisriddellblog:
Dark Sonnet by Neil Gaiman.
I...
Dark Sonnet by Neil Gaiman.
I love that Chris Riddell is drawing illustrations for some of my poems for no better reason than pure enjoyment (and what better reason for making art could there be?)
And sometimes the boys chase the girls to foreign lands. Love this.
March 18, 2016
L&P #23You seethrough the veneer,don’t you?Please tell...
L&P #23
You see
through the veneer,
don’t you?
Please tell me you see
all the sides
of me
I can’t bring
myself
to say out loud.
My voice is like a ghost’s
whisper,
forgotten the second
resonance ends.
I need
a trumpeter.
The brass I
have
in hand
is rusted through.
Stay my deep
breath.
Don’t make me
speak
for myself.
3/11/16
Jon Wilkening & p.s.w. gear
March 16, 2016
L&P #22Plunging headfirst,I knowyou areterrified of...
L&P #22
Plunging headfirst,
I know
you are
terrified
of living
But I
promise,
the breath
you took
unwittingly
will last
a lifetime
Your heart
will beat
Your eyes
will see
You will do,
you will be,
and you will
become
So swim,
in and through
past and returning to
all the color
3/2/16
Jon Wilkening & p.s.w. gear
March 14, 2016
What Do We Do?
I never wanted to marry her. I’d been intended since the age of two, but I much preferred my third cousin on my father’s side. She was demure and smiled without aggression. My wife had been nothing but aggression, in the pursuit of the crown, me, and, eventually, my heart.
I traced a finger along her jaw so often set in the expectation of complete success. She looked almost like she slept, eyes completely relaxed in as she could never allow herself in life’s waking moments. Except with me in...
