Old Man Scanlon’s
Old Man Scanlon’s

Letters from the Village

“Piano-moving” will appear in Star 82 Review in Winter 2018.
“Touched” will appear in Poydras Review in July 2018.
“Immortality by Proxy” will appear in Foliate Oak in December 2017.
“Flying Lessons” will appear in Entropy in November 2017.
“Burning Day” will appear in Star 82 Review in Winter 2017.
“The Slow Eureka” will appear in Front Porch Review in October 2017.
“Arbitrageur” will appear in Spelk in October 2017.
“Gold Watch” will appear in Jellyfish Review in September 2017.
“Lost on the Pike” will appear in Ellipsis Zine in August 2017.
“Crime Wave” will appear in Front Porch Review in April 2017.
“Second Chance” will appear in Star 82 Review in Spring 2017.
“Quartet” will appear in Entropy on 7 December 2016.

“Shopping for Grace” will appear in Peacock Journal on 22 August 2016.

“Defensive Ignorance” will appear in Red Fez.

“Desperate” will appear in Rose Red Review in September 2016.

“Mixmaster” will appear in Front Porch Review in October 2016.

“Eutectic” will appear in Star 82 Review in Fall 2016.

“Anniversary” will appear in The Vignette Review in June 2016.

“As I Am Now So You Shall Be” will appear in Cicatrix Publishing in May 2016.

“Avenue” will appear in Apocrypha and Abstractions in April 2016.

“Atlantic Dystopia” will appear in Cleaver Magazine in June 2016.

“April Showers” will appear in Beechwood Review.

Presbyograms

28 September 2018
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Odds are I’m waking. Crows outside my window started it, and, a little closer to home, borborygmi, the cawing and croaking in my gut. My subconscious flashes… [more]
25 August 2018
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Later in the week, another gathering, and the funeral arrangements are close to being final. Salad, ziti with meatballs, ziti and chicken… [more]
31 March 2018
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Awash in the noise and bile of the Twitter serendipity machine an Emerson quote caught my eye… [more]
31 December 2017
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I’ve arranged another move for Mom’s piano. It’s spent a quiet period with my granddaughters, who never caught the passion, and will soon sojourn with my nephew and his family. I’m gratified that we’re… [more]
16 October 2017
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In my high school days I spent uncounted hours in a Providence bookstore, gone these dozen years, browsing the stacks with intent to buy, and, until I understood the odds, hoping to meet like-minded girl-nerds. I had no idea… [more]
27 September 2017
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The man treats us to a rolling simian strut along the commuter rail platform, lacking only a pack of cigarettes rolled up in his tee-shirt sleeve. It is a rich rendition of the “macho guy” swagger, so without a second thought I hook… [more]
02 July 2017
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It was none of my business, but the man made it mine when he spoke his litany of the psych meds he’d taken. He briefly buries his face in his hands in pained reflex, and I hear, muffled, “mental illness” and “a lot of depression.”… [more]
28 May 2017
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Jeff had warned me that he’d convene Burning Day on the first sufficiently windless weekend before his burning permit expired. It wasn’t a threat, of course, but notification that the decade-old… [more]
20 April 2017
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My barber admits he’s tired. His quote retirement unquote has been to work four days a week instead of six, and now he’s cutting down to three. It’s his first day back after… [more]
05 January 2017
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I ease like a sardine into the last empty chair in Dr. X’s waiting room and kiss my chances for a quick in-and-out visit goodbye. The television is dead—a sign, if ever there were one, that… [more]
30 July 2016
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Westbound on the Mass Pike, with Cheryl and friends of ancient standing, I’m destined for a vacation at a woodsy cottage in the Catskills. It will be an indulgent luxury, and my anticipation is compounded with the joy… [more]
22 July 2016
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I spend most of my time in the air like a hover-fly—as you will gather from its name, hovering—motionless, observing, in the moment. Vicious accelerators, hover-flies do not… [more]
22 July 2016
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I spend most of my time in the air like a hover-fly—as you will gather from its name, hovering—motionless for as long as I please observing a scene from my life before snapping to the next. Hover-flies do not so much fly as… [more]
17 May 2016
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The maples are full-fledged. The oaks aren’t far behind, and they’re already fueling the gentle patter of caterpillar frass on my car roof. Roadsides burgeon with celandine and yellow rocket, augmenting the initial explosion… [more]
25 March 2016
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To augment my blathering small-talk about how getting older beats the alternative, I offer another cliché: there is no free lunch. Because we old guys know so much and have such vast… [more]
On His Father’s Side
28 October 2017
He’s someone’s working-class uncle in a 1950s black and white photo, short dark hair, doughy face clamped around an unlit cigarette. I return his nod. Instead of the required "Nice day" or "How are ya?" he plunges in, too quick. "I’m a dollar short for the bus in Providence." I slow down to return the serve, lying right back, "They won’t care." "They’re tough down there," he persists, trying to recover, but I’m gone.
Polyglot
18 May 2016
What a glorious time to be above ground. My great-granddaughter is a month old. Political spectacle to die for. Morning coffee. Spider in my cup, but smallish. Dead, and I saw him before I poured. Yesterday afternoon, because I’m the center of creation, I heard a mockingbird’s stylized rendition of a wood thrush, and that evening I heard the magical prototype. Today he mimicked a killdeer. I know what happens next.
Details
27 February 2016
Another year of the ordinary and inevitable: changes, endings, beginnings. Incompetence, corruption, poor decisions. Pain, suffering, and death. Yet I celebrate, because I must, the small miracles, one-offs and recurring. Kindness from a happy man working for City Hall. Warmth from February sun; year’s first red-winged blackbird. A waitress with unfathomable dexterity tying her apron strings in a bow behind her back.
Rookie Mistake
05 December 2015
Santa-hatted young couple walks to their car. He says, “I’m so bored with everything in life,” all faux world-weariness edged with drama. I’m judgmental: he’s self-absorbed, bereft of soul and wit, bankrupt. As my irritation and impatience subside, I settle on misdemeanor callowness. She says, “Everything-everything? Forever and ever?” She’s not liking how this might go. I don’t think he’s going to get lucky tonight.

More shorts…

Links

My Photographs

The Eyes of Old Man Scanlon

Journals

7x20 (Seven By Twenty)

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The Adroit Journal
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Apeiron Review
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Apocrypha and Abstractions
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Cicatrix Publishing
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Cleaver Magazine
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Cuento Magazine
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Ellipsis Zine
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Entropy
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escarp
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FictionDaily
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Foliate Oak Literary Magazine
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Front Porch Review
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Gravel Magazine
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Hippocampus Magazine
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Jellyfish Review
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land that I live
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Otoliths
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Peacock Journal
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Philly Flash Inferno
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Prick of the Spindle
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Prime Number
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Red Fez
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Sabotage
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Sleet Magazine
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Spelk
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Spry Literary Journal
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Star 82 Review
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Stymie
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Three Line Poetry
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The Vignette Review
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Vine Leaves Literary Journal

Journals, defunct after publishing (or accepting) my work

Rose Red Review

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Journal of Microliterature
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The Montucky Review
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5x5
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Short, Fast, and Deadly
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BluePrintReview
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Feathered Flounder
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Y’all’d’ve
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Thickjam
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High Coup Journal
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Trachodon
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Caper Literary Journal
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Tiny Lights
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Barefoot Review
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Camroc Press Review
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Writers’ Bloc (Rutgers)
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The Writer’s Eye Magazine
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Barrier Islands Review
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The Literary Burlesque
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Magnolia’s Press
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Sea Stories

Bookstores

Providence, RI: Cellar Stories Bookstore

Attleboro, MA: Ugly Dog Books

Falmouth, MA: Eight Cousins