Good morning all! I am excited to announce that Piecework Prose is now audio. I will be converting much of my older work to this format and updating it regularly. It is currently available on both Anchor and Spotify with both links below. Please feel free to check it out and introduce others to it…
Author: Mitchell Chmielewski
As You Will
mother may we farm the distant stars in ocean hues expanding recession calm the bleating reverberations echo across time running out errant highway souls anguished father broken foundry cast in sheet metal armor and scrap moving motion backwards the sands fall up as you will
The Miles Between Us
i walked in behind her carrying a distended plastic sack bulging with all manner of goods and produce not saying a word as she removed her coat in a single sudden motion maintaining a stolid steady stride straight into the bedroom slamming the door shut behind her. – i stood there as the echoes of…
Love
cruelty knows no bounds yet the only word is love – to create such savage blood to fill our cups to the brim to sate such unquenchable thirst – untamable flames burning desire claiming all in our dominion – to never know satisfaction to be ever reaching ever vying for a higher rung to fall…
This Mess
i’m a mess – a ragged ragamuffin running roughshod riding white water rapids and rolling river rocks – muddied mind malaise riddled masked in mirth exuding merriment maimed and torn miserable – pale portly panicked poor – a man alone in pain abhorred – surrounded enclosed locked away tight – retreat from the sun turn…
The Things We Carry
your positivity is a ruse more lies to tell yourself in the chill of early morning and lonely nights dreading your $20 an hour job wearing a pasted-on smile beneath sad eyes darkening and puffy suffering with a grin – in constant competition with people who you never cross the mind of posting photos in…
Giallo
paint her in giallo paperback binding folded back open book spread pacing through pages flipping with anticipation on edge for each new thrill revealed in stages unknown pleasures phantom stranger lurking in subtext sharp as a knife pressed against her precious neck beaded with sweat pulsing with blood engorged enflamed erogenous zones heated flushing red…
The Blue Eyes of Morning
and the blue eyes of morning blink – closing shut upon the still desolation of harsh winter storms – frozen shut – tears flowing freezing crystal streams streaking diamonds upon the pale face of sorrow – oh how the unpigmented landscape shrieks as the warmth of spring entreats allowing once more the rivers to run…
Shipwrecked Sojourner
there’s a coarse wind blowing shifting sands across a hagard shore once proud vessel cast upon salt licked rocks reduced to matchsticks waterlogged pulp splintered splayed in the hungry heat of tropic swelter rotting cancer claimed by capricorn bastard son of dead stars lost amid the calm of night a voyage ends desert isle distant…
Piecework Prose 