Tag: Writing
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The psithurism of the autumn forest flutters as the madmen of the otherworld profit from global uncertainty. I drive the point of a walking stick into the ground and take a breath or two. Eyes gazing outward and around. The forest is wet and orange. The trunks of the trees…
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There’s only 12 left again. A pair of tulips, blue and orange. A heartbeat on two lips, river red and candy pink. A shade of warmth in her sleeping body beside me. She’s beautiful. Sonic Ocean Water blue eyes in a meadow of golden sand. And now there’s an empty…
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The ancestral drift of dinner plates 5:15 am egg glow a smile in a mirror old antique wall ghost teeth a creepy smile an old hat in a mist a scarecrow in dawn’s early light a fake patriot cradling a cobalt bomb and a Bible in flames burnt toast in…
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CEREAL AFTER SEX 