Photo by Ludovic Charlet on Unsplash
I’m losing weight in my sleep. There’s no use driving the speed limit. One day, on my way to school, I caught fire. I noticed the flames didn’t take up much room. Of course, I had some qualms, but I didn’t want to become sidetracked. It’s good to be quick, but slow. Every day is the anniversary of something; those lucky snakes. Needless to say, that was the last time I planned to have good luck, but like roadkill, it kept happening. Like Fireball says, there’d be no need for cannibalism, if only the animals would do their damn job.
Brad Rose was born and raised in Los Angeles, and lives in Boston. He is the author three full-length collections of poetry and flash fiction, Pink X-Ray (Big Table Publishing, 2015), de/tonations, (Nixes Mate Press, 2020), and Momentary Turbulence (Cernvena Barva Press, 2020). WordinEdgeWise from Cerven Barva Press is forthcoming in 2021. Six times nominated for a Pushcart Prize, and twice nominated for the Best of the Net Anthology, Brad’s poetry and fiction have appeared, The Los Angeles Times, The American Journal of Poetry, Clockhouse, Miracle Monocle, Hunger Mountain, Sequestrum, Folio, Lunch Ticket, 45th Parallel, The Baltimore Review, Cultural Weekly, Into the Void, Right Hand Pointing, and other publications. Brad’s website is: www.bradrosepoetry.com