Jim Meirose – Flash fiction

Ricardo! Odracir! Ricardo!                                                       

It’s imperative we gain understanding of Beano and Knot, the leader says.

Very hard, though. Where’s their sense?

What? Not our question. No—but wait!

What?

They’re speaking again. Take it down.

Yes.

Pen up ready, go; listen. Scribe.

Ricardo! Odracir!

Beano: That’s okay; what moves? Visit?

Knot: In his suburban home paid for excellently extraordinary elite top position Dell’s shoe store salesman.

Beano: Oh, thanks.

Knot: I may have another.

Beano: Blur dead.

Ricardo! Odracir! Ricardo!

Knot: Out neverending transparencies gas, told air whirlin’ n’ seething ‘round him—which, though necessary—impeded.

Beano: Eating alone on second while before reporting after old life.

Knot: Earned it. 

Beano: It’s can’t not ever be late, either.

Knot: But when selling shoes of course, feet.

Ricardo! Odracir! Ricardo! Odracir!

Beano: Stand staring, all’s empty.

Knot: Typically often any bother; something’s still bothering you, he had heard from today.

Beano: Surprisingly, flesh-bloody inspirational Chaplain Ameri-gahh, reared slick shine porcelain inspirationally over-scaled model.

Knot: We.

Ricardo! Odracir! Ricardo! Odracir! Ricardo!

Beano: Meaning-meant tell day, she took charge conversation, because news was much more shattering.

Knot: So once year and one half  f’ back at official meeting’s time go.

Beano: Come?

Knot: Two being gone, popped down her muffins every does, remembered.

Beano: Very good.

Ricardo! Odracir! Ricardo! Odracir! Ricardo! Odracir!

Knot: Cozy l’lone quiet l’lone.

Beano: Work seemed like other, suddenly; wait—away someplace thought.

Knot: Sirs.

Beano: This’s always true single moment ‘n addition to smell dirty storeroom.

Knot: Are kind.

Ricardo! Odracir! Ricardo! Odracir! Ricardo! Odracir! Ricardo!

Beano: Stop, no. Just get there.

Knot: Bye.

Beano: Thus ‘cause way, pop my tuna’s broke conscientiousness.

Knot: Slight grin.

Beano: Slow first, thank God rest is free.

Ricardo! Odracir! Ricardo! Odracir! Ricardo! Odracir! Ricardo! Odracir!

Knot: The with man.

Beano: Again thinking do, standing across sales counter, talking.

Knot: Hello, welcome.

Beano: Take walk mirror see how look suits us, dear.

—nothing—

—nothing—

Pen down all done, stop; done. Stop scribe.

Get everything?

Nod.

Send it off to the analyticals. Then wait again.

Understood.

Earth shattering, eh?

Yes. Earth shattering.

Ricardo! Odracir! Ricardo! Odracir! Ricardo! Odracir! Ricardo! Odracir! Ricardo!

Jim Meirose’s work has appeared in numerous venues. His novels include “Sunday Dinner with Father Dwyer”(Optional Books), “Understanding Franklin Thompson”(JEF), “Le Overgivers au Club de la Résurrection”(Mannequin Haus), and “No and Maybe – Maybe and No”(Pski’s Porch). New work “Audio Bookies” is forthcoming from J.New Books. Info:www.jimmeirose.com @jwmeirose

Eve Kaplan – 1 poem

The Clouds Came Out

            

The clouds are out today 

The trees are yellow and the sky is pink


The world becomes unridged for a day

The flowers are able to sigh

Trees able to breathe 

Frogs able to run 

Boys able to cry 


The world was black and white for a day

We saw no color

Only shadows 


The world was silent for a day 

We heard no noise

Finally understood what they meant 


The world slept for a day

Those who lay awake were free


The animals were gone for a day

And so there was no one 

The plants stopped just making oxygen and started breathing it


The world switched directions 

And as we spun this new way 

People began to fall of the edge 

            

Eve Kaplan is an eighth grader at Windward School in Los Angeles. She is a managing editor for GirlTalk Magazine and contributing writer to Spearhead Magazine. 

J.D. Nelson – 1 poem

Goblins are earthlings, too

yes, there is a grackle causing trouble in the yard

carl on earth has a question:
yeah, why is it so cold and then hot down here?

you cannot eat the purple earth
this is the breakfast of triangles

smooth vial king of the kourt lateral happy ness
arm warms and cents of 70

I walked across the sun and never once looked up.

J. D. Nelson (b. 1971) experiments with words in his subterranean laboratory. His poetry has appeared in many small press publications, worldwide, since 2002. He is the author of several collections of poetry, including Cinderella City (The Red Ceilings Press, 2012). His first full-length collection, entitled In Ghostly Onehead, is slated for a 2021 release by mOnocle-Lash Anti-Press. His work has recently appeared in E·ratioMaintenantOtolithsBlazeVOX, and Word For/Word. Visit www.MadVerse.com for more information and links to his published work. Nelson lives in Colorado.

Jonathan Corle – 1 poem

AMBUSH ON A WINTER SUNDAY

            

Late afternoon we lay back

on a stony white slope

of the deep road cut

Watching‒

oyster shell skies

smoking‒

Lucky Strikes

smelling‒

gun oil

The 20 gauge bolt-action

Mossberg and Stevens side-by-side

cradled on our chests

Icy fingers on triggers ready

to fire when the first crows

flew over

No matter how

many times we shot

they kept the same flight path

The friend I hunted with dreamed

of becoming a game warden

ended up working in a haberdashery

I went on to college

moved away

thought I knew him

Years later I heard

one black winter morning

he hung himself

All I really know is I liked him

and he was a fine wingshot.

            

Jonathan Corle (Jon) is a poet and lifelong resident of Pennsylvania living in Chester County. After retirement from the financial firm he founded, Jon became an adjunct professor in the Close School of Entrepreneurship at Drexel University. His interests include reading and writing, cycling, golf, and travel with his wife, Diane.