Nathan Tyree Everything Glass
Everything glass in little fractal shards sprayed about so that the light refracts miniscule rainbows a million times in the flat surfaces. It covered the road and obscured the blood, the twisted metal and fractured fiberglass and plastic. Despite the hour the moon was quite visible, like a secret voyeur that had snuck out to watch our misery. Because the moon had no friends, it called to the sun to watch us as well.
Nathan Tyree is a scruffy looking primate living in the absurd corner of Kansas. He can't play the Oboe, and sometimes his arms bend back. It is his deepest desire to be reincarnated as a zombie version of Charles Bukowski. His fiction and poetry has appeared (or is forthcoming) in Dogzplot; Dogmatika; Diddledog (what is up with the dog names, huh?); Poor Mojo’s Almanac(k); Word Riot; decomP; The Beat; Flesh and Blood; Bare Bone; Heroin Love Songs; Gutter Eloquence and about 100 other wonderful places. Sometimes he reviews books for BookMunch. He keeps a lifetime supply of single malt Scotch and a big box of crayons handy at all times. Find him at nathantyree.wordpress.com
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