HeyJaredTumbleweed Words
Original poetry and short fiction by David Moran — Pushcart-nominated, internationally published. Minimalist verse and literary prose, written on trains, in bedsits and strange cities across the globe.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 14
- Latest publication
- Sep 30, 2026
- Audience
- Checking…
- Earliest in this view
- Jul 26, 2026
Latest issues
night sweeper (opens the original)
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<img alt="" class="sizing-normal" height="317.3333333333333" src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!yncp!,w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F6e473bea-f022-4bef-af39-aca81530c0a8
day shift (opens the original)
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<img alt="" class="sizing-normal" height="335.9423076923077" src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!11N_!,w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fa20b1d15-1fe1-4d2d-b2fa-17ed8bcdf8
Paris (opens the original)
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<img alt="" class="sizing-normal" height="370.6666666666667" src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!OeZs!,w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fec56d5b7-667b-4c5b-bb52-b175d7754a08
the hour (opens the original)
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<img alt="" class="sizing-large" height="423.03846153846155" src="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!S9PJ!,w_2400,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fd40477a9-7f30-451f-bb4e-a529721a70
I am giving my heart to you (opens the original)
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Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedI am giving my heart to you I don’t know what else to do with it. we sat by an open door feeding on bowls of Pho bamboo lanterns, dim lit space we occupied. at a café alone, I watched hungover on love the façade of opulence hid from view a basement KP, who in scrubs would scrub through blister heat, plates the wealthy would never keep in homes, chosen few could afford to enter. I am giving my heart to you, alone in basements
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