A Dream
In the dreamscape there were tents. Made of found wood and canvas tarps. Huge, man length snakes appeared on the sand. I wanted those scales on my body. Black and rainbow all at the same time. I wanted to… Continue Reading
Author: Alina Prax
Gypsy
The bag was flimsy. The cheap kind shopkeepers didn’t run a mental tally on before giving out. The plastic was so thin you could see your hand through it. It was the color of mother’s milk. Inside lay a… Continue Reading
A Bukowski Styled Ode to Coffee
I’ve been reading a lot of Charles Bukowski lately. Not sure why it took till I was nearly 40 to discover this writer. In the last 6 weeks, I’ve read each of his novels in chronological order, twice. Not… Continue Reading
On Aging
Today I saw my face for the reality it was. Creased, and lined, and peeling around the edges like a Victorian lady whose paint had faded long ago. What had I become? Not a shadow, not an echo but a… Continue Reading
On Writing
When they open the fire hydrant in the summertime with a wrench and nothing more, a torrent of water spews forth. It floods the asphalt turning it the color of a swimming pool at midnight. Once the hydrant has been opened… Continue Reading