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Last Drink Mechanical Bird Head

The coffee-house looks like a photograph, Pre-digital, a faded more-than-real. Espresso and two cigarettes: a meal.* Reflected in the window, I’m a half- Step out of synch with moving in the flesh. Barista croaks “two lattes”, bobs his head, His long beak hazed with steam, his eyes dark red. The tip jar fills with cogs … Continue reading »

Categories: Clockwork, Exercise, Poetry, Writing | Leave a comment


The leaves of the tree wouldn’t have moved if they hadn’t been programmed to, but the light breeze caught them, enameled brass so thin they barely weighed more than a real leaf, and they rustled, glass-like against each other. Nearby the river rushed in whispering, rasping gouts, tiny quartz beads thrust into cataracts by jeweled … Continue reading »

Categories: Clockwork, Flash, Writing | Leave a comment

Clockwork Argument

Jorge sat down at the breakfast table. He was feeling good; he had slept through the whole night, and woken to gentle rays of morning sun curling their fingers around the window curtains. A bird sang in the distance, and even though it had been programmed to sing this song, he found the rising ditty … Continue reading »

Categories: Clockwork, Fiction, Flash | Tags: | Leave a comment