This will be a weekly series following one Masafumi Ushikawa and journey through several world religions.

It was a Wednesday.

Masafumi was walking around downtown, when he noticed the ashen marks on some peoples forehead. The people were coming out of a nearby church.

Masafumi noticed how content the people were. He then remembered it was Ash Wednesday.

Masafumi always held a high regard for people who demonstrated their faith so openly. He looked around some more and noticed some of the people with ashen marks counting beads. …

a poem

Goodbye Giants

Goodbye Browns

Goodbye all the teams who vie for the NFL crown

Goodbye Jags

Goodbye ‘Boys

Goodbye Bill Belichick and ALL of his ploys

Goodbye Cards

Goodbye Lions

Goodbye in-game charity tie-ins

Goodbye Bears

Goodbye Colts

Goodbye Philip Rivers and the LA Bolts

Goodbye Pack

Goodbye Raiders

Stay out of Oakland, you two-time traitors

Goodbye Chiefs

Goodbye ‘Hawks

Goodbye to the ever-aging faces of “The Guys” on Fox

Goodbye Jets

Goodbye ‘Fins

Goodbye 49ers, and watching the Vikings sorta win

Goodbye Bengals

Goodbye Rams

Goodbye Steelers and their towel-waving fans

Goodbye Falcons

Goodbye Panthers

Goodbye Bucs…

The following is the opening chapter to my three-part epic, When Is Now?

Gil stared at the plane icon creeping across the digital map.

15 more minutes…

A steward walked by and Gil thrust out his arm and seized his attention.

“Snake whiskey, three balls, please.”

The man turned with a crème brûlée smoothness and glided into the centrally located wet bar. His hands blurred and three distinct tones rang out from the spherical ice hitting the tumbler. The cork was extracted. The bottle was tipped, its contents coaxed out. The cork was then restored to its relative position over…

Picking up from where page 18 left off…

As the men, clad in their best orange surgical wear, turned their attention away from the smoking heap of miniature machinery and towards Marco, one of them noticed the supine body jolt.

“Did you-”

He couldn’t finish his sentence.

Marco shot up and looked around. The room he was in bore a peaked green light and was cold. A thin air of lifelessness passed fluidly over his skin. In several increasingly natural motions he removed the sheet that rested on his legs and went to stand.

Water…” the sounds coming from Marco’s…

a sonnet.

Goat Police

feast on fists

misted with garlic.

Scarlet Abernathy occludes

moods revealed to Richard.

Mister, or Miss, please,

Godspeed! Escape to Amritsar,

fits among kits are

to be secreted…

A sonnet.

Could it be? Were it real?

I thought I seen it on a tray…

Oh to feast on a sweet hog’s wheel!

My palette rejects the dross of the soiree!

My hunger for the cured, I can no longer conceal!

Lo, the waiter passes… my temptation manifest!

Pink… Scored… Cubed… And cloven!

Oh no! My body! I am inflating, as if by jet!


With an uncomfortable steadiness,

Dickey endures the internal explosion.

There were no splatter, no horrid mess.

He simply expanded, consuming all space.

Now a human balloon, the others could not stress,

you see, due to his size, they were all blue in the face…

Murky socks

Salacious tongue

Languid clocks

Molten lung

Fiendish mock!

Sordid bend

Crusted gaze

Fetid rend…


Sheltered pit

Naked maze

Quiet slit

Phantom flow…

Torches lit?

Pitchforks go!

Deep into midnight, the heat brings a turgid sweat.

A terraced village infects a hillside with vitality.

Kangaroo courts and false testimony; an exile fetch.

Envious Barons ignorantly incited Lord Mayor Banerjee.

My body is a fountain, each gland a voluminous jet.

A miasma, caked and soupy, I, first clench, then, release.

Down alleyways, up boulevards, and all around the avenues

My effluvial fury towards the populace can only increase!


Acrid, unctuous, rancid, and false!

The fat little ‘doctor’ doesn’t even wear shoes!

Week after week the banished bathes in barley & malt

He transforms, soils himself, threatens loud & fast

(Each occasion is worse, he’ll say it’s your fault!)

When really he’s merely mumbling, stumbling, just passing gas.

a sonnet + dialogue excerpt from a burgeoning trilogy of novels.

P: Foaming apple, post-midnight, sorrow untold…

G: Many a sapling is certainly maligned.

P: …An ape’s uncertainty was never owed.

G: No matter the expanse laid out in his mind?

P: ‘round here, the tortoise is left in the cold.

G: My sternly cobbled pot belies your testimony.

P: Unfix your gaze! Fasten tightly your ascot!

G: The owl’s penchant obscures the latent atrophy…

P: Boiling Bernard’s and Confused Kevin’s don’t simply “back-off!

G: The mind is a diamond, clad in leather.

P: Many have fallen… their lot forged in plasticine.

G: Thus the words I recite, hands clasped together:

G: Flagrant fragrant filigrees,

G: Flunk flu-ridden fallacies!

Our Amplified Earth

Hurst cautiously entered the bar, seeking out his lady. Molly casually sauntered in from sending a group out on a night hunt.

“Hurst!” Molly was made ebullient at the sight of him. “To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit at this hour? After all, I heard you lost that client and-”

“Mol, we need to talk, but I don’t have long, I’m onto something here. There’s this pin I got, but-”

“I believe what you have belongs to me.” …

Inejiro Koizumi

Five-Star author of the non-linear book series Our Amplified Earth. Narrator of the Tales From Our Amplified Earth Podcast. Sumo enthusiast. 発気揚々!

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