where the writers are

William W Lyles Jr.'s Writings

Short Story
Jan.06.2013
Chapter 6: Momma Our mother was usually too intoxicated and often broke one or both of her heels on the uneven streets to walk the buggy with us children inside. Many a gentleman would reach to steady her before they realized that it was not the broken streets that made my mother fall. The ladies would turn their noses up at my mother judging that she wore too...
Poem
Aug.04.2012
  Truth is I don’t remember roaring through my twenties. Those succubus years; flying high as gods, snorting Fresno whores misguided who could not spell narcotic or philanthropy so they switch off with lightning in a bone bottle invariably back on. Somewhere some mental masturbation is an opposite polarity. Weed on Friday morphs into bleach white...
Short Story
May.26.2012
        The night air is rather refreshing, at least for the first eight thousand feet or so while I tumble head over through the roar of the uprush of sweltering air. Any pool of sweat along my saturated neckline is now quickly absolved of its undoing with the constant push of the wind’s wide thumb. There is a sense of...
Short Story
May.03.2012
Unpublished
  The Damnation of Beloved                   “Even as the swiftness of lightning ye have passed by the Beloved One, and have set your hearts on satanic fancies. Ye bow the knee before your vain imagining, and call it truth. Ye turn your eyes towards the thorn, and name it a flower. Not a...
Short Story
May.03.2012
  V. the Understanding of the Wanderjahr                   On becoming a swagman, one has to let go of preconceived notions. One has to let the Gods alone in the dementia covered walls from where they first came. If there was a God over the silent heads of any baby who had fallen silent...