Category: Alex Weir

The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 9.2 – South-East

My task now lay in tracking. A task rendered doubly difficult due  to the need for stealth. I didn’t know if the balloon was friend or foe. If I found a suitable tree every mile or so I would follow the UFO. Since it…

Is Hypocrite an Ad Hominem?

Geeking out over faulty reasoning. I encourage comments and discussions. – The Vidja to which I doth REEact –   Email | mellow.mission.productions@gmail.com Minds | http://www.minds.com/Weirmellow SubscribeStar | (Under Construction) http://www.subscribestar.com/TFJ

The Hits (Poem)

  You’re swimming in sentiment Can’t reach reaction Down in the basement Gravity’s gaining traction Would you say Or would you sing Would you play Just for the ring Fundamental symphony How it orbits Differs not in kind just by degree These are the…

Wispy, Waify, and Wild (Poem)

She was just a dream I guess that is my nightmare All these sorts of things They always interrupt me This is why I stare O so very blankly As the hand ascends And drops down O so very slowly Nothing ever ends Wispy,…

The Sketch of Sam Monroe – Chapter 9.1 – Rope

That’s not right. That tree wasn’t there. None of this was there. I’d looked down at the trail. I’d looked for only a few seconds. Schmidt was behind me. Lucas just ahead. The sounds of our over-encumbered out-sized expedition echoed all around. Now there…

Tactile (Poem)

There’s a lot to be said for tactile suggestion How treading leaves with rubber soles Is an eternal orientation Contextualizing roles The shoe, the man, the fall Somewhere between specificity and ambiguity Strange songs begin to call Like myriad birds Flitting in their season…

Chipping Paint

Small southern towns that bake beneath a low hanging sun. If you’ve seen them all then you haven’t seen any. Did you ever sit under Magnolia blossoms, next to a jar of crickets, as your friend’s sister twirled on a tireswing. A tireswing that…