Jim Thomas

Light variations at the bomb museum

I heard the footsteps again, you know who it was. The fish tank inhabited by a strange artwork. There was nobody home to explain, we waited. I remember tampering with the core and the first stage of fission, a hollow …

Posted in 102: GAME | Tagged

On the committee of vultures

The feeling on the island was that a god had come here to die. We met lesser angels wandering drunk through the hills, accusing passers-by of paying tax to many-tongued deserts, beasts muscled in shadow and serpents who chase their …

Posted in 97 & 98: PROPAGANDA | Tagged