Category: Writing
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The Boy With The Spanish Bayonet
Her cactus bed smelled like butter nectar. She swears that lying down on the thorns helps her back, yet all the red marks there on her skin, looks like she was nearly eaten alive by fire ants. Fire ants. She remembers the hot summer day when she was maybe 12 and she was playing in Read more
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The Sour Scarecrow
A dark day rises gallantly toward the sun. Love is tattooed on the skin of beckoning stars. Red huts line the perimeter of the crater. Down in the belly is where they grow worship plants. The royalty ships float above, the strong hulls crush the air, the flamboyant sails unfurl ahead of the breeze of Read more
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Passages
Harpooned harlequins cascade like dominoes in the limelight trick of light down on the piccadilly row of southern Santa Monaco and the bow rips and the cow tips and the fringes of a mad mind unfold like warped bric-a-brac on a magic store shelf in Sicily comatose gold rope lassoed by Cowboy Bill and his Read more
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The Dreamers of Fortune Street
Is it me causing all the ruckuses? Is it me blowing down all the brick walls? I went to the Centrifugal Theatre downtown because I wanted to watch a movie that made me spin. Halfway through the picture, an old black and white, the usher came up to me in his red uniform and monkey Read more
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Ambient Endless
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Ms. Grundy and the Bone Ghosts (2)
Lloyd moved away from the window and went to the nurse-white neatly cluttered kitchen and fixed himself a cold chicken sandwich with salted cucumber wedges on the side and a fat glass of Ovaltine. Read more
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Blowtorch Pastoral
Blowtorch Pastoral is a space I created to post some of what I consider to be my more serious writing. Read more
CEREAL AFTER SEX 