Fiction

Sniffer

I hate her. I hate this woman, she was nuts. She’d mail me polaroids of cat feet and on the back they’d say, “don’t bathe your cat” or “I have to sniff your cat’s toes.” Dozens of them. This went on for months. Every other day she’d phone me to say good morning and then …

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poetics

UnMaker to Prosperity

So long we think the years to be All that we are is all we see Think nothing of mortality             But when we fall sick We tend to scream, perhaps to plea             And wither so quick

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Blog

Warrior

Bob combs his hair. Then he combs his fake hair and affixes it to the top of his head. Despite the aid of adhesive tape, it fits awkwardly. His head must be getting bigger. He grunts. Old man noises. The delusion of confidence and a stiff upper lip.

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Fiction

Toxoplasmosis

This is not the place for an introvert. There’s something about kinky folk. They’re like unspoken members of a secret club. They sense each other even in mundane locales like Popeye’s—Taryn met Robbie at a supplement store she’d mistaken for a place to get fried chicken. She liked his Native American tribal tattoos and he …

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Fiction

Le Cochon Maigre

The Skinny Pig.  $143CAD/night, rated amongst top 5 Downtown Montreal Bed & Breakfast on TripAdvisor.com. The building stands unassuming among the sparkling downtown menagerie: tall, narrow, old brick, painted a sloppy off-eggshell, a black mansard roof, and hazy latticed windows with board-and-batten shutters. You’d never notice this place unless you were looking for it, but …

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