What if a whisk

Phillip Toledano

Manic Whisk

Let me out of this drawer–

I don’t belong here in this rabble
of misunderstood gadgets, spatulas,
and sad, hopeful corkscrews.

I am an artist–

Free me, and I will whip
heaping mountains of cream,
beat eggs within a living inch,
create meringues the likes of which
would have driven Van Gogh to burn
his precious Sunflowers. Picasso at
his most cubistic has nothing on me,
my arcs and twirls and brilliant frothing mounds.

This darkness is not worthy of me–

Dali weeps.

Umbrella window

View from life

I am I am I own

I am a beautiful flower

Hermann Forsterling

I am an ostrich

Keith Carter

I own the ostrich

Breaking my mind

jenszi, Bryan Shutmaat

Size matters. Yep, yep, yep.

Randall Brown, writer, editor, educator, and general connoisseur of all things flash fiction, has founded a new site dedicated to making all tiny (written) things count. There are daily features that include prompts, crafting advice, a weekly guest blogger on flash fiction topics, interviews, and a Sunday micro-fiction feature. An authors page lists writers with links to their blog or website, plus a representative story. Though just getting off the ground, FlashFiction.net is already informative, exciting, and chock full of micro, mini, flashly goodnesses. I suggest you check it.

Escape

Bryan Shutmaat

Legs twisted in fitted sheets. Body/breath heavy on me. Get away so far away.

She fights for her life

Oren Lavie

How poets die

a) happiness

b) sadness

c) allboth of the above

Where did you come from?

And where the fuck am I?

Heavy is the crown

A woman’s hair is her crowning glory, my grandmother always said.

Chema Madoz

She also once told me she felt like she was drowning. We had been washing dishes together in silence, her hands wrist-deep in suds.  I placed the plate I’d been drying in the rack and leaned over the sink on tiptoe to look out the window at the star-speckled sky. Searched for the Milky Way, scanned for the moon.