“He’d say talking and I’d say beats crying.”Read more "New Fiction: 1 August 2022 “O” at The Airgonaut"
Alone, Paul did not see Lilliane or David, Moore or diSuvero, ever again.Read more "Moiety | The Airgonaut | 1 October 2017"
Time from pellet to chair was miraculous: less than one minute, confirmed.
3:16th of an inch thick, praise God.Read more "Fiction | White Plastic Chair | The Airgonaut"
Originally posted on THE AIRGONAUT:
? by A.E. Weisgerber ? Once upon a time near Fort Fred Steele in Wyoming—on a pretty spread west of Medicine Bow—lived Chai, Wyatt and their gitchi-goo baby. Although Wyatt expected to move up the ranks as a mechanic at Bakken-Shale, desert princes and kings of faraway lands thought not. Wyatt…
Nominated for The Pushcart Prize | Little fish held heads aloft at the water surface and sang a song, too: “Aidez-moi! sis-boom-bah! tick tock Puppah Puppah yah yah yah!”Read more "Puppah Fish | The Airgonaut"
From the pharmacy on Holland Street, to the haul up Mountain Avenue, then down the hill on Valley Road, along the old Leni Lenape trails through the woods, where the nut sedge shudders and the mamas stow their fawns, there is a box of Playboys from the 1980s.Read more "Mothers + Sons | 31 May 2016 | The Airgonaut"
Nominee: Best of the Net | Originally published by The Airgonaut | Reprinted by Revolution John | They dressed to the nines; they put lawn chairs in the van, they filled the van with friends and a cardboard box with Colt-40s and Champale. They tried to sit still, but cheap champagne that was so quiet in the bottle was getting loud and wild. Their team was dynamic.Read more "How to meet Marc Chagall | The Airgonaut"