Torsade Literary Space Yoharie: What It Takes to Fly (part three)
Yoharie What It Takes to Fly (part three) She had the right to give herself a birthday treat. Eleven days. Eleven days and you’re dead. Her rotten little sister had texted her this. True, she had one thousand dollars on a debit card, untouched. Tomorrow it would be. […]
Mr. Boots Has Fleas (poem)
Mr. Boots Has Fleas The first bite is the one that itches Generalissima Flea says, “Sisters, keep your back low, it’s a war zone. Jump! Hold your column, single file. Make for the summit. The summit! Where the blood flows warm. Some of you will be swallowed by the cat, and some―” […]
The Totem-Maker: Use for Use (part six)
The Totem-Maker Chapter Six Use for Use (part six) My patron, not in the least unforthcoming, sat giving me nods, smiles, speaking syllables of agreement. I excused myself to the yard to fetch my pony, finding the trader’s arrows had landed him two hares. They hung by the feet […]
The Impresario (part twenty-five)
The Impresario Part Twenty-Five Three long blasts and a short to summon The captain of the Bishop’s horse The foot-guard lustily bash heads Gaspard’s men eagerly make arrest For every fine collected is a feather for their nest Tortu’s sturdy back unaided must draw the sledge The wax-man’s mass umbrellaed ’Neath a […]
Republicans’ Last Chance (opinion)
Republicans’ Last Chance Or, advice from an observer As to politics, I believe in doing what works and not doing what doesn’t work. Human society has never been able to figure out why this principle is so difficult, rather than so easy, […]
My Blog Week: January 12 to January 18
All the Latest from Torsade! A Word on the Week To Ask the Question Tomorrow, best of luck and safety to the people of Richmond, Virginia. The planned rally suggests a wish to instill fear in […]
Where Fashion Sits (poem)
Where Fashion Sits Are you the larval worm In the larder Every feathered pillow has this unseen delver You feel yourself layered in tissue paper Your rat’s race a peristaltic ripple of waxy flesh Your crackling head a pin The glue has brittled in the way of yellow cellophane The leather soles […]
Mince No Words: Seventh Battle Stations
The Folly Battle Stations Mince No Words Business is to be got to…Trout, though he’d offered pretext Possesses so little of personal quality While a monocled eye, unsuffering of fools, peers so expectant The host shrugs away his first, introductory amblings Though ahead he forages as much as […]