Painstaking (a poem)

I’ve taken painstaking care

to avoid this moment

when the hot solar flares

take away my chance at atonement

for the crimes I’ve committed

& the lovers I’ve lost

for the criminals I’ve acquitted

& the innocent lives it cost

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The Stain on our Souls (flash fiction)

The old man speaks of phantoms. He lay on his death-bed, and his face is ashen and sickly.

“Our home,” he says, “it’s haunted. Haunted by my sins. Haunted by my father’s sins, and his father’s sins.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

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Suburban Killer (a poem)

at this juncture, we’ve not found

the serial killer who

stalks the sickened streets

of this suburban town –

turn that frown

upside-down, miss

we’ve got diligent detectives

on the case

looking at every trace

of evidence

storing it in dirty lockers –

we’ll find this psycho-dude

I assure you

& you can go back

to your tranquil life

not worrying ‘bout

these dreadful things

(Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash)

Book Review: The Trial by Franz Kafka

Imagine one day you wake up and you’re accused of a crime. You have no memory of committing a crime, but the authorities come to your apartment and begin to take away your freedoms. They say you must now submit to a mysterious court procedure, but they’re explanations are vague.

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