The Dead Milkmen
· REMINGTON GRAVES ·
“I’ve seen you before, haven’t I”? ”I don’t believe—“ He began to mutter like a mangled mutt as an automobile drove by splashing…
The Way She Sees
· REMINGTON GRAVES ·
All hail the poet laureate lascivious no longer, laughing through his treacherous tears, raising his cowardly countenance to the heavens feigning a cinematic fortitude as heavy ivory keys stomp then sprinkle lightly from the hands of Satie. Amber, orange, brown, grey, and a watercolor smudge of said hues stroke violently across the path atop the…
The Dark Talons Of Two Worlds
· REMINGTON GRAVES ·
The fire roared furtively and then sighed, feeding the men a hellish heat as they trembled in their soaking slumber sweat amid thick and tattered blankets—dusty, bloody fingernails digging into hard soil, aching toes twisted and lashing, throated gurgles and gnawing of tongues—silent begging muted screams. Tangled soaring trees insidiously standing afar and reaching for…
“What’ll it be, friend?” ”Three fingers of Fiddich—straight.” ”Sure thing, stranger. Say, you ain’t from around here are you?” he said proudly pouring after reaching from the plenitude of liters and pints. ”No,” he replied rapidly. ”You know, pal, I got a couple of girls just down the road who got hips, slips and fingertips…
What A Tragedy
· REMINGTON GRAVES ·
The dissonance with its diaphanous dialect, summoned the dormant menace no longer dreaming, to rise from a bed of warm and wet yellow, orange and brown large leaves. Pine needles permeated throughout a silent congregation of soaring giants—barked skin, and still with leafless limbs. His naked and trembling body, glistened with sweat and reflected the…
A Game Of
· REMINGTON GRAVES ·
“Shall we?” “I’m not sure, I follow, Dad.” “Well, let’s see. You sneak out the window at all hours of the night, I caught you smoking, your grades are deteriorating, and that hair cut is a goddamn disaster. Not to mention, your principal called me again. Another meeting. Something about you cutting someone. It’s…
The Hunted
· REMINGTON GRAVES ·
What trite trembling did negate thy tender troubles? What agony did beckon again and again from surreptitious depths, to assuage the flooding of present regrets, to hammer furiously at unknown desires—yearnings passively vapid and banal. Illicited and vacuous, ignominous the occultation of your hunger for him…for he breathes into your branches—the blazing breath of summer…
Peacemaker
· REMINGTON GRAVES ·
Like slumbering blurring lions, the baking blonde hills below had closed their eyes, and from atop a black steed he leaned to the right to give his aching back a break. Squeaking gloves carrying numb, hot fingers waved in warmheartedly into the mare’s mane and for a moment, squeezed and pulled; she sighed and neighed,…
And Waiting
· REMINGTON GRAVES ·
An anomalous crew conspired curiously like the pearled iridescence of the leucistic monocled cobra under a showering full moon. The mutiny began like the faint hiss of the serpent assembling in symmetry with other culebras, and there, Mephistophidian in scaled oblivion, did congregate with its contriving cabal. The Me that I have always referred to as…
The Beat On The Street
· REMINGTON GRAVES ·
The humid hot breath of summer huffed and puffed at everybody’s strawed doorstep, and all the little piggies in my pit of a town, stayed put and posed prettily for phony photographs. All together now ( in Beatles choir voices). I usually stay indoors, and when I should the most, my rebellious nature kicks in…