Microfiction by Ken Poyner
Microfiction by Ken Poyner #TheMetaworker #ForgeFriday
The Metaworker Literary Magazine
Where great stories are forged.
“After years in the sanitarium, / the grasshopper looks up and sees / his therapist is the ant.” excerpt from Grasshopper Looks Up At His Therapist by Jocko Benoit #TheMetaworker #MetaworkerMonday
“Magic Tricks For The Homeless”, a web comic by Kevin Charles. #MetaworkerMonday #TheMetaworker
“the recurring colonnades /
offered the illusion / of progress, vital calamity / passed into oblivion…” excerpt from On the Plaza by Clay Waters. #MetaworkerMonday #TheMetaworker
Micro Poetry by Michał Zieliński #TheMetaworker #MetaworkerMonday
“It’s Not You, It’s Us” and “The Procedure” – Micro Poetry by Sam Alec #TheMetaworker #MetaworkerMonday
“Many thought that the worldwide aphasia outbreak would bring about the end of the world. It certainly put a crimp in all normal day-to-day activities.” #TheMetaworker #MetaworkerMonday
“my swift nights powered by / Starbucks are behind me.”
#MetaworkerMonday #TheMetaworker
“I lived here when the comet struck,” he said, raising his voice, “and I lost my Nellie when the rain of molten gold came down.”
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Three Microfictions by Corey Bryan @pip_prompts #TheMetaworker #MetaworkerMonday
“The bang came afterwards, as if the earth had just regained consciousness and gravity returned with violent force.”
#MetaworkerMonday #TheMetaworker
I asked about her yearnings, her desires, as I suspected they might, perhaps, mesh with my own. It was worth a try, an attempt at some sort of shared, miraculous
camaraderie.
Thrusting one creased pant leg in front of the other, canter-leaving ankles, knees, thighs, my leather shoes clacking slate as I amble toward and away, …
While I waited at roadside I thought,why not try some loveliness. So I did.I saw visions in far reaches, feltthe soft touch of silence, melodiescame …
The war brought a boost to the flowermen’s activities, to which were added antiwar agitation among keelpods & rounding up draft dodgers. The great wave …
Some lands are royalty in just existence: the dragging of the boat from sand to sea, the thick of the tongue on the roof of …
The fog was making whispering sounds It was rising up from the earth Like spirits from the past I spit dust from my mouth …
Hypertension: Each bus line a grime-filled artery, Each soup line snaking concrete corners, slithering in human filth like wet soil, wet and thick …