Michael Brandonisio


On E

Posthumous Rendezvous

Premise: The pristine value of nothingness has, as its direct result, a caustic valentine dispatched from the heartthrob, as is its wont — that is to say, the heartthrob’s nothingness. To a lesser degree, the broadest aspect of the word “breathe” begs the question: is Nag Hammadi such a bad place after all? Better yet and simply put, does every clock face need to be recalibrated? You may answer at your leisure or, should you require more leeway, shortly after you have consummated your love affair with life.

Side-note: Metaphorically speaking, is bread just an excuse for wine and schnapps?

Obligatory Resolution: Two strangers meet at a crossroads and metaphysically pull out their pistols. This seemingly innocuous event muddles all reason, as does the popular notion that induces shoplifters to cream their pants for cosmetics. I understand your feelings pretty well. Well, maybe. It’s too bad you shed your mortal coil a while back. It was before I knew you, or became acquainted with your facsimile. That is not the case any longer. You have splashed down from your extended holiday, and will shortly hold a press conference to reveal your findings, suppositions and so forth. You are an act of faith in the subversive sense. I will blot out your name so as not to blemish your guilt.

Terminal Hotel

Michael Brandonisio has work forthcoming in Gobbet.
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