david
michael
lawrence
Microfiction, flash fiction, short stories, occasional poetry, and stray thoughts ranging from absurdist to unsettling.
Posted Works
Three titles
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It’s kinda like a thumb on the king’s head, right on this busted notch in his crown, and my man across the board don’t say nothing, which I appreciate, you know, ’cause my hands been doing enough talking for everybody, shaking and sweating and smokin’ all broken and, and like, he’s on this little square…
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Back To School
And then it’s back to school, the teachers are hatching again. They come up from the cracks in the floor, dripping mnemonic goo and we’re supposed to clap, but honestly? It’s disgusting. Questions and answers and we sound like idiots and we get treated like criminals. So. Cool. This morning my mom ironed my shirt…
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The Root
The company said evergreen. Symbiotic. She’d be beautiful. Posthuman. Post-mortal. But now she’s post-body. Post-voice.
About
Sometimes playful; sometimes grim.
Most of what’s here didn’t get sent out anywhere else. Not because it wasn’t finished, I just liked it enough to post it and move on. New work goes up when it’s done.
I’m an engineer by day and have been writing since time immemorial (i.e., the 80s). Grew up in a small, eclectic fishing town on the Pacific coast. Outside of that: philosophy podcasts, reading, and cooking over fire.
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