Tag Archives: Sean L Corbin

What could be better than a hot mug of French roast?

A job. Any job – a factory job, an office job, blowjob, jobbers, doing the J-O-B on P-P-V*, once my dream job you know, to wear vinyl underwear and grow sweaty amongst sweaty men for crowds and strips of gold, … Continue reading

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Cass

A wasp dogfights a honey bee until all that remains is a sweet empty husk, a burned out passenger car littered with comb ash, with no flowers left at the edge of a chalk road – only dead porcelain bees … Continue reading

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How to draw on influences

Spit tobacco juice on a gravel road until Jackson Pollack appears. Tell him everything is equal. Show him your painting technique. Let him make a portrait of your Skoal can jean ring. Point to its center and say “This is … Continue reading

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Repacks

One day a week I work in the warehouse of a certain arts and crafts store, and my primary expertise is in repacks. They are called repacks because they must be repacked. Wrinkled boxes stuffed with acrylic paint and four-by-six … Continue reading

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Hollow two

The toes, however they may whisper, will welcome the cold bones of mice lying beneath the wilting leaves browned by wet and clouded sunlight leaking from the feathers fresh and phallic from the heights of skinny trees ensconced in breezes … Continue reading

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Hollow one

Fallen trees trip the trails but hold the heavy handprints. The creek runs in place. Tonight, the owls will ovulate beneath Orion, hooting high below the bulging hills until the mice all call the evening closed. Branches will break under … Continue reading

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Bequeathal

I don’t know you, never did. I know your name, and that you had no color although in your later days you gained too much as if overcompensating for grayscales, and that your wife could walk when she had two … Continue reading

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