Author: Otto S. Fishbein

Comix

Sunday Comics

I laughed and shook his hand and made my way back home. I searched for Sunday Comics for years and years I roamed. I gazed a gazeless stare, we walked a million hills. I must have died alone a long, long time ago.

Comix

Sunday Comics

Cubs make fires on the edge of the golf course, but…there’s more of them than us now and they have come to settle scores.
So there’s bound to be some Sunday Comics on the B-road where they don’t fly the Stars and Stripes.

Comix

Sunday Comics

Put your hands over your eyes. Jump out of the plane. There is no pilot. You are not alone. Standby. This is the Comics. And this is the Sunday of the Comics. This is the time. And this is the record of the time.

Comix

Sunday Comics

I follow Victor to the sacred place. This ain’t a dream, I can’t escape. Molars and fangs, the clicking of bones — spirits moaning among the tombstones.
“I don’t want to be buried in a pet cemetery, I don’t want to live my life again.”

Comix

Sunday Comics

I like to sleep until the crack of noon, midnight howlin’ at the moon — goin’ out when I wanna,
comin’ home when I please. I
don’t have to ask permission if I wanna read the Comics. Never have to ask for the keys.