A MAN crosses towards the table from UP STAGE RIGHT. He is wearing underwear under a long, flowing silk bathrobe, open at the front. He stops to the RIGHT of the table. He takes a flower in his right hand, smells it, brushes his face with it, then drops it on the floor to his left.

haiQu began as a solo project, primarily using appropriation (theft, if you prefer). In its infancy, I called it Twitter Haiku. But after the hostile takeover of Twitter by a narcissist, fascist-wannabe man-baby, I abandoned the birdsite for Mastodon, where I continue the practice.

i used to be afraid of vaginas i thought since they brought me into this world they could just as quickly take me out of it but now i know they don't care about me one way or the other they were just a tunnel...

they say mars is dead but how'd those rocks get to the bottom of the hill

Anne Whitehouse's poetry collection, Steady, isn't a poetry collection. Rather, it isn't just a

First Pat: Did you just key my car? Other Pat: No. FP: You did. I heard it. As you walked

I don’t have writer’s block. I have writer’s fright. Nothing is permitted. Everything is true. I tell

Exist Otherwise is one of my publications featuring creative writing and photography inspired by the gender-nonconforming writer, artist, and activist,

This little gem is from from The English and Scottish Popular Ballads ‘O WHARE are ye gaun?’ Quo the fause

When Judas heard the crow cock three times, he only did what his Rabbi asked him to. He fulfilled his destiny knowing full well what the cost would be. Condemned forever for an act of loyalty.

Many people say the light leaks are part of the charm on vintage cameras, but I find them annoying. If the leaks were random in origin, shape, size, or character, that would be fun. But light leaking onto the exact same spot of each frame, and in exactly the same shape, is repetitive and boring.

At exactly the halfway point between then and now, time, in concert with the earth's inner core of blazing iron and nickel, reversed its direction and began spinning backward as if seeking its own birth in the fiery magma of amygdala.