I’m in a different city, sitting in yet another hotel room. There are six women in the room. They are talking and laughing and drinking wine. The TV is on and music fills the space around us. I sit at a small card table, staring at blank pages. The women are purposely ignoring me. They respectContinue reading “Inspiration”
Author Archives: Hank Kirton
This Poem is the Most!
I knew a girl who saw a ghost She said the ghost was Donny Most I told her Most was most alive She said in time he won’t survive So who’s the ghost you witnessed then? `Twas Donny Most, she said again If he’s alive then can’t you see? You must have seen a wannabe!
I Am Often Very Afraid
My friend Dan is pretty supportive when I explain my crazy ideas to him but there’s one thing that he sometimes kids me about. My profound fear of “decreasement in the easement.” And my inability to confront the problem HEAD ON! He chortles at me whenever I mention it. Seriously! Chortles! Is that any way forContinue reading “I Am Often Very Afraid”
My Most Animal Is Radish!
My radish is my most animal because it lives in a crisper drawer inside of refrigerator where it makes very shallow breath. Like whispers it sounds. It has blue and green fur and stays very soft inside. I name him Candle because he brings light to my life but not too much. It is notContinue reading “My Most Animal Is Radish!”
The Job Interview
I’m nervous at a job interview, desperate to make a good impression. I really need the gig. My bank account has been wilting like a weed during a drought. The office is spare, stark, and cold. There’s nothing on the walls but beige paint. The Hiring Manager’s heavy mahogany desk stretches empty before him, aContinue reading “The Job Interview”
Like a Tapir in the Bathtub (redux)
Harvey Flense sat dejected on his favorite barstool, wondering what he did wrong. The blue girl was gone. She left with abrupt indifference. Cocktails gave his words the confidence to come out but as soon as the slurred sounds hit the atmosphere he regretted them. Wanted to reel them back in. Take a retroactive vowContinue reading “Like a Tapir in the Bathtub (redux)”
The Plummeting
From a great height he plummeted, did Norman Johnson, a man who thought he had nothing to live for anymore. Annie, his wife of thirty-six years had succumbed to pancreatic cancer and the prolonged loss was a violent rupture in the soft center of his feeble being. It was like watching The Sound of MusicContinue reading “The Plummeting”
Link Day One
At around ten thirty Link went ahead and lit a new cigarette. He could only smoke in the house after his grandmother went to bed. She went to bed every night at precisely nine o’clock and that’s when Link could smoke in the house. At nine o’clock Link could also watch his porn on theContinue reading “Link Day One”
The Suicide, the Lobster and the Getaway
All I can do is render the events as they occurred. It was drizzling that fateful, shellfish day in 1958 in New York City, when 38-year-old Evelyn Gush stood on her 19th floor ledge, shouted something about Bishop Fulton Sheen, and then stepped off the edge, hurtling to the terminal pavement while onlookers screamed, includingContinue reading “The Suicide, the Lobster and the Getaway”
The Inappropriate Laughter of Monkeys
Bowing monkeyward, as he does every morning, Caleb Strepthroat, a porcine conundrum with thick yet opaque features that avoid reliable description (bean & bacon soup and a whiskey sour being the meal that comes closest to describing his icy heartfelt Meg Foster eyes), feels a sharp ping of gristle pop in his gut and hisContinue reading “The Inappropriate Laughter of Monkeys”
