July 3, 2025 | Poetry
Four Poems
Philip Traylen
But there’s no cup, no / kitchen. Just one mouldy / statue, dreaming of television.
Posts by Philip Traylen
September 3, 2024 | Fiction
The Nudist Colony
Philip Traylen
I have the feeling that, if she wished, Tiff could control me entirely through simple elbow voodoo; just a loose jet-lagged tilt and I would fall to the floor, start foaming at the mouth.
December 6, 2023 | Fiction
Stations of the Cross
Philip Traylen
and what’s the point, really, of casual sex, except to melt the ghosts off someone’s face
