The lost art of Toad calling
He limped along the sidewalk shouting “I will treat them like animals. I will drag them through the dirt before I slit their throats.”
As I passed he looked me in the eye and momentarily, before again casting down his gaze, I could see that he was possessed.
“Secretly, you know I am, right.” He asked.
Continue reading ~ Micro-fiction by Brentley Frazer →
There is a long hall in which two porcelain geese seek with beak determined an ornamental hell. In the bedroom, standing before a wound in the wall from which emanates an opera of soft goodbyes, is Mercy clutching a strangled kitten to her breast. A damp kitten. A dead kitten. Above roll insects segmented and emblematic who . . . → Read More: Two Poems by Brentley Frazer