Category Archives: Hannah Phinney

The house

The house By Hannah Phinney They took the house away from us. I was an inkling there. I dragged my doo on the floor there. I sprouted opinions there, grew awkward and greasy-faced there, went back there after mutating into … Continue reading

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The consumer

The consumer By Hannah Phinney The monitor glowed. Camille gazed at the long rows of bright objects against white background, and her fingers on the mouse went click, click, click. Shopping had forever been her favorite pastime. Since she was … Continue reading

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Exercises in style (3)

Exercises in style (3) By Hannah Phinney He is standing frontwise to the velux in a room whose walls are vibratingly flower-explosioned and whose ceiling slants are such that they can only be capping the space at the very top … Continue reading

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My mind is a piece of slate in the desert

My mind is a piece of slate in the desert By Hannah Phinney We are driving driving driving through a simplified landscape. The color & texture of ground morphs subtly every fifty miles but always in the distance great swathes … Continue reading

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Sin # 2

Sin # 2 By Hannah Phinney Milef had dyed green hair, of course, because she was punk. One side of her head was razored to the scalp, while the other was overrun with the glossiest of clumps and spikes, their … Continue reading

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Sin # 1

Sin # 1 By Hannah Phinney They called him The Carnival King, because it was he who lorded over every last caterwauling, meowing nincompoop sighing out his days shit-deep in the useless tradition of bean-counting on any of the skyscraper’s … Continue reading

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