fiction – Page 6 – PSYCHOPOMP.COM

Pleiades, by Wesley Woolf

and they said “I nor we, us, I mean the fifth one.” […]

It is Sunday afternoon, and Silvia is watching her husband from the corner of her eye while she tries to

Shave your head every third sunset, and the eyebrows, as is proper; sharpen your beak every sixth; if its straps

There is a haunted house. It is made of whalebone, of mammoth bones, of overhanging cliffs and caves. It has

I’m not having eyes anymore, but still I’m seeing him visit that wretched body, day after day after day. Time

Among the strange happenstances and peculiar mischances of ancient times is the story of a dervish in Ghazni who dwelt only among the dead.

(prelude 3.1) He wasn’t socruelas to namethe dog. (first day 1.1) I live in the same house I grew up

WE, with base of Ornithischia, machine-molded and encasing intelligence, run to keep the beloved ones alive WE: bird-hipped, yes, bird-fierce,

In the very back of Landsdelle Cemetery, beneath a windfall of vine maples, Adaranth White took respite between two sheltered

Light and life and rain and white noise and we are thrumming with the city’s breath and soaring through its