Achos

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Nostos

For James

Cold-turkey

I swallowed a butterfly

Atheist's Plight

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Nectarine

Crescendo

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The Rain

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it will all be okay

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River

Words

Hope

Time

They Fear Us

Party, Party, Party, Party

She Her Her She

Bread

the big man and the little man

Once upon a time, there was a big man and a little man. The only thing they had in common was that they loved to watch twigs flow down the gutters. The little man did not enjoy this until he became the big man and the big man only enjoyed this if he pretended to be the little man. The two men loved more than the act the waiting up to. Cloud would thunder and stars would hide when the little man walked outside with the big man. The earth loved to cry on them because only she knew the impotence of their relations to one another. One evening after another the big man would venture outside and stand, waiting, wishing for the earth to cry. One evening after another the little man would cry for himself. The big man would never come to realize the little man knew more than he, but the little man and the big man still became friends again. On an evening so cold and so smelling of tear, the big man walked out the front door, puffing on his cigar in hand thrice times before vanishing; forever. The little man followed the big man out of the giant’s door and wanted to see the rain and feel the rain as the big man once did, but the big man was never there again. Down the concrete path, the big man and the little man walked. The big man showed the little man how to watch twigs flow down the gutter. The little man did not see twigs, he watched sailboats soar down the little winding river, what one little man called, “the river of life.” The big man and the little man were always prepared for their walks along the river. Boots—check. Umbrella—check. Whiskey glass—check. Cigar (cheap)—check. As they walked they would talk in an ancient slang, for the big man and the little man were the oldest men alive. When the light began to fade they would start their journey home, and when the light of the day was gone they would warm themselves next to their woman; whom they called queen, whom they loved very much, for without her they would have both lost their place. Folks say the big man and the little man still watch twigs sail down the stream of the river gutter and folks say they still found a way to walk with one another.

Reflections of Her

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Note: The artist started writing fiction as a child in elementary school before writing "Reflections of Her" in a high school creative writing class years later, however, he wishes to not share the works written before that time.