FRESHFLY
NEWEST FLY
outsider’s haiku
fall by the wayside it’s where the real action is & bring bail money
FRESHNEWEST FLY
fall by the wayside it’s where the real action is & bring bail money
FRESHRECENT FLY
it doesn’t matter though everybody’s lost their appetite family won’t help my sneakers stink I need a shave blurry eyes and old cigarette butts my life feels stupid…
FRESHRECENT FLY
My feet are tender but not legal currency What’s a big toe worth?
FRESHRECENT FLY
The machine apologized again. Very polished. No spelling mistakes. Almost tender. It had just spent an hour doing exactly what I told it not to do. The men…
Coming soon Open Arts Press
Small books and modest claims. A new series of single-author poetry chapbooks.
Older work dragged back into the light before everybody forgets it exists.
Daniel J. Flore III has left 21 pieces here.

A quick hit of micro-fiction. Click the fly. Five clean hits and civilization is briefly restored.

creative writing 101
By Lance Watson
so anyway the students were hoping the prof would be stoned he was julie waznowski? “here” julie, do…
See the latest →Her motivation was simple enough. “Why should the kids get all the presents?” a red-clad woman said as…
Lie to me →Photographs, diagrams, collections, graphics and visual evidence that absolutely nobody requested.
Look anyway →No title. No author. Read first; meet the culprit afterward.
https://soundcloud.com/user-674857679/theres-poop-in-my-underwear
when my wife gave me shit
for the poop in my underwear
I had, had enough of it
I can't help
the crap
on my hanes
I said plain
but she wanted me disgusted and shamed
out on the streets
these streets
so unforgiving
for a man that's stinking
in his underwear
but she didn't care
I don't know
why I had to jump through poop hoops
in an endless
loop
to explain it's only natural
that a man like me
have poop atrocities
that society
doesn't understand
if only we could reach out and take each other by the hand
and make a poop stained stand
underneath this dawn this sun
and then the underwear revolution would've begun
but instead I stand
with a laundry basket in my hands
feeling alone
on the cold stone
of this city unforgiving
reeking
of misunderstanding
I wave my soiled underwear
in the air
and wonder who will care
who will care
we've all had poop on our underwear
we need to unite
not be divided by each others poop
but see my poop in you and yours in mine
but alas it's just on another day
where were grossed out
by the poop that got away
and I say
when
when
when
when will your disdain
for my poop end
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75 pieces. Nine years of poetry, fiction, art, humor and other things that probably should have been supervised.

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