Paul Fey

Joined June 2021

0 stories

Bio

I just want to be the best writer you know.

https://paulfeywritings.cargo.site/

Stories (17/0)

A Year of Fires
1. Cleaning the Forest Floor Trundling hills of leaves— smoke billows on a clothesline —soon fold into flames. 2.
By Paul Feyabout a year ago in Poets
GPS
i put my hand on your thigh i’m your guy you reach over and hold it show me how to downshift sunny skies, my eyes on the trees outside
By Paul Fey2 years ago in Poets
Callouses
She makes him think of quantum physics Heisenberg, to be specific, and his Uncertainty Principle; that she, with only her sincereness, can
By Paul Fey2 years ago in Poets
Commuter Life
In Manhattan today it’s gray and from afar I can sense your grayness too; in stale morning and afternoons you spend alone. I think about what I’m doing
By Paul Fey2 years ago in Poets
Shattered Glass
collected pool tiles and shattered glass create a mosaic on the surface of Coney Island concrete walls: the fishes of the sea,
By Paul Fey2 years ago in Poets
The Act of Translation
The birth of their daughter was the turning point in learning his wife’s mother tongue. Allan joked that it was because he didn’t want them to speak behind his back in front of him. Once, with Learning Portuguese for Dummies splayed across his chest, he worried his joke betrayed his motivation was not for his wife or his daughter.
By Paul Fey2 years ago in Fiction
Alarming
It was the smoke alarm going off. Her going off on him for hearing it and doing nothing about it. Him saying he was barely noticing it as he was reading and drinking coffee. The alarm going off over their heads and her saying how this was just his way of being. Him yanking the thing. Their listening and staring at each other, then hearing it again. He was still explaining it could be the batteries dying, not quite dead, as she walked away, fuming.
By Paul Fey2 years ago in Fiction
You're Not You
Hear the whispers through the trees, can see them shaking reverently, can it only bend against mind The winding breath of God?
By Paul Fey2 years ago in Poets
Clairvoyant
There were moments of premonition in that dark pizza parlor; us seated tête-á-tête to meet, our friends like nervous bettors
By Paul Fey2 years ago in Poets
Bloody Mary
Mary lifted the reverse-strapped pack at her stomach like a caring mother—not with child, but on her way to an orphanage on the outskirts of the desert town. There were no passengers by the time she reached her stop; the bus wheels squealed as it reversed course. She waited for three hours. She figured she better get started while it was early in the day and she still had phone battery.
By Paul Fey2 years ago in Fiction
Foresight
Pink-cheeked Charles was pinned to her hip like a moving box, sheltering his pucker from the sun with his hand in the shape of a trowel, as Sam listened to her new neighbors condemn the previous inhabitant for his notorious lack of foresight. The atheist had planted the first living thing on the property a month ago after spending 30 years in the two-bedroom rancher.
By Paul Fey3 years ago in Fiction
The Pit
I finished my set and waited as long as I could before moving like a minnow in the half-lit surf-bar on South 5th, through the vague, swaying crowd, who was once my audience. I found an empty seat by the taps. Is there anything sadder than an opener drinking solo at the bar? I was thinking it myself when Sal said it from my shoulder. He’d often parrot what I said so it wasn’t a shock when his outer monologue lined up with my inner:
By Paul Fey3 years ago in Fiction