Tag Archives: David L. Paxton

Shot 39

Ice clinks off glass. Winter brushes up on history lessons, loosening fingers from stove-heated copper bars. Oak barrels eagle-eye out from the cellar, drunk with full bellies. Birds remain since there is no option for migration, opting instead to build … Continue reading

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Shot 38

They are there and we are here. Let oceans decide what brain-gumption is or if we are all so adaptive to our possessed climate that it even matters now; the longer the nose, the more distinguished; the longer the nose, … Continue reading

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Shot 37

Out of the four years they loved each other, two-and-a-half they actually had loved. Muscles fought against one another, and then jealousies arose aroused by rivalry and petty ignorance. Swords of lightning bit through blood and bruises appeared in the … Continue reading

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Shot 36

There hadn’t even been a child to talk of, the Rockwell sort with rosy cheeks and animated lips. Mud mutilated clothing webs cross floors and walls, drapes chairs and bedposts. Modern buttons glisten as though a galaxy inhabits just under … Continue reading

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Shot 35

Paint riots off the fabric exclaiming its travel of the canvas’s static structure. Torquing out into the candle light, turquoise crimsons, scarlet golds, and the eyes of generations of hair soldiers into copper wraps. Scented with linseed, it is understood … Continue reading

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Shot 33

Upended equivalent of faith, which is where stale crumbs of bread and mashed cheese attract flies fermenting into alcohol on slate. Fluorescent bulbs dim as eruptions of pin-needle taps commence their barrage. The rainy season is coming on and with … Continue reading

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Shot 31

In staggered oboe rasps and death timpani waltzes, there are no excuses. Justifications and defenses die separating from each waltzer’s shoulders. See how they no longer slouch across the cedar floor, their heels touching light in pivoting. For eleven minutes, … Continue reading

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