Author: Michael Murray

  • The Poetry of Near Misses

    The Poetry of Near Misses

    —

    by

    Michael Murray
    in

    In the middle of the night a huge limb from a tree in front of our apartment fell. It landed in the narrow, two foot distance between our parked car and the neighbours. Just missing both. As if a message lain there by design. In the morning, we stood outside marvelling at this blind, improbable…

  • Hulk Dreams

    —

    by

    Michael Murray
    in

    The Incredible Hulk Dreams of his Scary Feelings 1. In dream Hulk mad. Really mad. Hulk go to park to practice smashing and find it full of puny humans!! Hulk see no social distancing and only one, maybe two masks! Hulk so mad, Hulk no want to get Covid-19! Hulk can’t control himself! Hulk smash!!…

  • Murder Wasp

    —

    by

    Michael Murray
    in

    A Murder Wasp Answers the Vanity Fair Proust Questionnaire: ************************************************** 1. What is your idea of perfect happiness? “It might be a cliche, but it’s stinging, it really is. And murdering, of course. Stinging and murdering. But inside of that, there’s the feeling of my stinger easily penetrating the thick outer layer of a beekeeping…

  • —

    by

    Michael Murray
    in

    Days that vanish as if through a trapdoor, nights that simply dissolve. Rachelle and I, our daily responsibilities now behind us, are lying in bed drifting Netflix. All the shows are more or less the same, minor variations on a theme. The algorithmically engineered content, a bland, smothering limbo. I wonder if I have become…

  • The Pandemic Zodiac

    —

    by

    Michael Murray
    in

    The Pandemic Zodiac: Sourdough (Formerly Aries) Sourdoughs love to be number one, so it’s no surprise that these energetic go-getters are the first sign of the zodiac. Bold and ambitious, Sourdoughs dive headfirst into even the most challenging situations, like homeschooling a child, trying to manage a stoned spouse, or contemplating the bleak, ruined landscape…

  • —

    by

    Michael Murray
    in

    A blue forever sky this morning. A man in his 60’s with a quarantine beard coasts down the street on his bike. His hands in the pockets of his green jacket, his posture relaxed, he is a boy once again. And then a masked woman, uncertain yet determined, rollerblades by. Behind her, a friend, cycling…

  • Ask the Plague Doctor

    —

    by

    Michael Murray
    in

    ASK THE PLAGUE DOCTOR! Q: What colours are the fucking sneaker? A: Although I see a kind of shitty, aluminum pink and what looks like a knock-off version of white that might have been made in a stained bathtub, all is a fog of unknowing. Who knows what is true? Think of a tyrannical empire,…

  • —

    by

    Michael Murray
    in

    Sunday was a beautiful, sunny day and Rachelle, Jones and I drove over to a friend’s home to pick up some masks she had sewn for us. It was the first time the three of us had been together in the car in a long time and it felt like an adventure. The windows down,…

  • —

    by

    Michael Murray
    in

    A Map of Social Media’s Current Understanding of Covid-19: