Are the words in the dictionary fiction or non-fiction? Of course, I don’t get the sleep I deserve. Like animal crackers devoured at the petting zoo, you can just imagine the tragic highlights. Since the total Internet eclipse, I’ve grown tired of advertising myself to myself, so in the future, I’m only going to write myself hand-written love letters. It’s a no-brainer, don’t you think? In fact, I’m as smart as I’m ever going to be, and then some. That’s why I remarried my ex-wife, twice. So far, the pleasure’s all mine, or so she tells me – like being tickled by farm equipment. Meanwhile, at the zoo, the animals cry at the cruelty of the torrential weather, especially the giraffes. Their long, slender necks, skinny as a stick of freckled celery – their heads proud and elegant – although the latter tend to snap off, even in the faintest breeze.
Brad Rose was born and raised in Los Angeles and now lives in Boston. He is the author of seven collections of poetry and flash fiction: I Wouldn’t Say That, Exactly, WordInEdgeWise, Lucky Animals, No. Wait. I Can Explain, Pink X-Ray, de/tonations, and Momentary Turbulence. His book of prose poems, Or Words to That Effect, is forthcoming. Eight times nominated for a Pushcart Prize, and three times nominated for the Best of the Net Anthology, Brad’s poetry and fiction have appeared in The American Journal of Poetry, The Los Angeles Times, Red Ogre Review, Baltimore Review, New York Quarterly, Lunch Ticket, Puerto del Sol, Clockhouse, Folio, Best Microfiction (2019), Action Spectacle, Right Hand Pointing, and other journals and anthologies.
His website and blog, along with selected readings, can be found at bradrosepoetry.com.