FRESHFLY
NEWEST FLY
big toe haiku
My feet are tender but not legal currency What’s a big toe worth?
FRESHNEWEST 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…
FRESHRECENT FLY
I met a woman while standing in line inside a dispensary She told me she carries a gun in her purse along with the cash needed to fill…
FRESHRECENT FLY
1. a clean bill of health the doctor told me to roll onto my side i asked if we could get to know each other first she said…
Older work dragged back into the light before everybody forgets it exists.

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

I was thinking about starting an internet poetry forum
By Lance Watson
So i went online to study the one that says it’s “the web’s most active poetry forum” or…
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.
I’m gonna tell everyone
my Facebook got hacked.
It isn’t true. It’s easier
when trying to surgically remove
family members and fake friends
like fake news.
Social media has been to me
like a dermoid cyst, with its teeth
and nails and lanugo-like fine hairs,
no heartbeat or facial features.
A deformed doll
I should have discarded years ago.
The truth
is I’ve been addicted a long time,
the same as my attachment
to trauma bonds,
afraid of what comes and lies
between who I am and who I want to be.
My attachments effectively eat me
like a bone,
buried and uncovered a dozen times
before it's forgotten.
Pick a bottle. We take no responsibility for what happens next.
Paste your own prose. Nothing leaves your browser. Then let the machine make a small mess of it.
75 pieces. Nine years of poetry, fiction, art, humor and other things that probably should have been supervised.

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