Hoyle Brannacht
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A Mongolian Raiding PartyA Story by Hoyle BrannachtA hirdy-girdled woman says to me, "Inquiring 'bout your stetistics, son." I push my het to the brow and let loose a string of expletives. .. |
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[Drunk and staggering...]A Story by Hoyle BrannachtDrunk and staggering, I left a ball in honor of a salted dignitary no one likes (yet must find palatable) and drove off a cliff. Mid-fall down, abou.. |
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[An older woman...]A Story by Hoyle BrannachtAn older woman, black shawl over one tired shoulder, came in from the street one day and seated herself by a window, troughing the spine of a book. .. |
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[A question...]A Poem by Hoyle BrannachtA question: Is this parchment impressed with the conjectured pens of men following everclose on and careful? A danswer: The pen. The pen in oth.. |
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[A man cries over his sweetmeat son...]A Poem by Hoyle BrannachtA man cries over his sweetmeat son; in his tearful eyes, a catch of flower. It is a sadness that blooms and dies in time. He will know the n.. |
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