Safe as Houses

stood out, the thief in a mill, safer than mice in cheeses. if it please, then, he still didn't find it, that needle the traveler was peddling, pulling him back outside, boredom a dangerous enemy now met in a narrow street. skipped blithely by the praying pirate, and ran into debt for a little wisdom, … Continue reading Safe as Houses

In the Night Gardens

It's now past midnight, it's time to sleep. Heart a bang drumming, slowing, boom boom boom. Eyes closing like bloodroots, at the loss of the sun, dreams staining lovers minds, while restless nights bring open dreams, nottinghams that bloom, creep up castle walls. We seek brahma kamal, Bhima's quest and elusive bloomer, wish fulfiller, dream … Continue reading In the Night Gardens


....I'm working on something a bit bigger lately. Which means I may not be posting here, or, the opposite. I have this tendency to wander into a million side-projects whenever I start something significant - I'd like to think it's sort of like a sculptor chipping away at a big block of marble, and noticing … Continue reading So…..

Some Mornings Should be Spent in a Tree

Fecund landscape, terraformed and terraforming, full of animals long habituated to the roaring of wheels and steel, children rushing from game to game clutching violins, picolas, harboring seeds of violence and remorse. Surrounded by watery roads and tankers tip-topped with cargo boxes, highways and light rail lines, pierced by adventuresome, noisome coyote, hawk, pigeon and - … Continue reading Some Mornings Should be Spent in a Tree

Shadow Box

The boxer glistens, kidney punching, on the screen, shadow boxing, kissing, tasting life. I'm on the couch, tied to the couch, watching marionettes passing along the screen, as I sip beer, chew peanuts, stroke the back of an imaginary dog. If you'd been an angel, you'd have sung to me, forbidden songs, in forbidden tongues, … Continue reading Shadow Box

Subjective Grey Matter

Bartholemew expected better - he told K so, in uncertain terms (the voice wavered, of course, doing the immaterial boogaloo). K had taken the wheel, was drifting around the road, crossing lanes with abandon "There's nobody on the road!" gleeful shouting, wide eyed, hair twisting like opposed electrons, wandering along opposite turns - "Look, Locke - … Continue reading Subjective Grey Matter