Author: Greg R. Fishbone

a wordbecomes a hashtagbecomes a promptbecomes a poembecomes a call to actionbecomes a movementbecomesa world 29/365

On pins and needles we read the news and wonder which monster will do us in first. 28/365

Bored with the cold and hard politics of ice, the winter pond elected to become a blob of warmed-over gelatin. 27/365

She’s a real creampuff, purrs like a kitten, only ever driven on Sundays to church and around the block for endless hours of talk radio. Pulls to the right? Sure, these days, what doesn’t? 25/365

The wealthiest backer of American fascism galumphed onto the stage and showed us who he was. 24/365

The fawn in the meadow tilts her head as the north wind rustles the grass. Message received, she sets her teeth to shred the evidence. 23/365