The Naked Prayerbook
Print book of literary stories, and poems, by Philip Tinkler
"On a skyline-scratched balcony, a feather-haired girl looks at the sky like a starling in a shoebox. Her eyes are afterthoughts, like decorative buttons on a cheap suit. The iron-oxidized bird-feeder hanging overhead sings along with the wind-whistle. She thumbs the pale ring of second-finger skin from her third calloused marriage, and waits with wine for her captain of light mourning."
Cover art by Philip Tinkler
Published Halloween 2013
"The girls wander around tinsel-pretty in a December-less town.
Apple-bites snake a bonnie symmetry under their collars as they hang onto
each other in a drunken giggle of Spanish moss. The night is a venom jacket
thrown over the unmade bed of America. I avert my personality from my face.
The party is in stage IV remission."
"She asks if I still write. I tell her writer's block is when you live a
lie and can no longer lie of lives. I'd die inside my sentences. I load up
and shoot the explanation of how I only write my feel-guts in the hope I
don't take the Hemingway out, but our pin-drop conversation makes no point.
I turn up the Alcohol Volume and hear only teeth to glass as she drinks my
ill-feelings as an aperitif before gorging on my senseless humor."
"I twist my tongue into a fetal position. Words can only wound this moment.
I run my fingertips through her long and conditioned thoughts to revel
beside her aromatic and slide inside dragonfly-shaded summer drinks drank
above flora and fornicate we fly under Icarus wing and nimbus nine to allow
latitude a lax attitude coloring a curl-toe inside outlines of dead yellow
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