Articles by
Matt Miller is thirty-something and the best years of his pitiful, loser life are over. Yet writing gives him some small pleasure, and so, lonely and miserable, without human affection, love, or even human touch, he whiles away the hours writing weird stories of monsters and other such horrors, like the human being. Matt was not born, but rather parthenogenetically sprung from the head of Zeus.
Ode to Benny Hill: Scooby Doo Chase Scene
by matt miller
If I were a rich man,
Ya di da da da da da da da da da da da da da,
All day long, I’d eat spiders and …
A Vampire’s Funeral
by matt miller
A funeral. Cold, misting rain extends its skeletal fingers past coats and hats and layers of clothing, down to the bone, penetrating skin and chilling soul. Grey, naked trees stand …
The Bath of Wife
by matt miller
Gingerly, tenderly, I bathe her,
My wife.
She is the Bath of Wife.
I am careful not too rub her skin too hard, or else it will sheath off.
I am careful not to …
Modern Haiku
by Matt Miller
Strolling through the French Market
In New Orleans,
The smell of rotting human flesh wafted up into my nostrils.
Sunday Afternoon in a Southern Church
By Matt Miller
Sunday afternoon. A one-room church, wooden, old, partially dilapidated, but suitable. South Louisiana in the summertime. Unbearably hot. No air-conditioning. Humid heat …
Vampire Confessional
By Matt Miller
Darkness. Damp coolness. I am barely conscious. I cannot move. My will is not my own. My body melts into the soil around me. It is the edge of the face of …
Standard Literary Agent Response
by Matt Miller
Dear Author,
Please forgive the informality of this stamped card, but we are going to send it anyway. You see, we expect you to address us by name and to write …
©