Almost got to touch you, tonight. Caracal... you purr. Cat. Nails. Some light scratch. Tail slipping through grass. Almost got to touch you.
A mail carrier, a postie, a letter carrier Walked into a bar. Smittie wiped his rag slowly down the bar, one eye on the newcomer, the other in the mirror, debating how he'd parted his hair that morning. (It had been a tortuous argument, between him and himself, the comb dancing from left side to … Continue reading Dead Loving Office
...my best writing is usually sarcastic. This also comes easier. Like, this... Or, this. Mostly the summary in that one. Which is probably best.
Who do I admire? Who inspires, teaches me - who blows my perceptions apart and offers me new ones? Not confessional writers. I don't find memoirs, or poetry that's purely about the poet, all that interesting. A Winged Dream was likely the last time I'll get that personal, and it was more about me getting … Continue reading The Master Stroke Against the Memoir