They say it's rude to stare. But what if I can't help myself? What if all I want to do is stare at you? Would you allow me the pleasure Of learning you inside and out? Would you let me love you The way you were meant to be? Is it too much to ask That you...
The garments of Autumn's patchwork leaves of green, now nature's basket of red and gold falling to a breeze, stars twinkling at dusk twilight in a kaleidoscope of dreams imagination listening to the symphony of crickets karaoke watching the inhabitants am...
The klaxon alarm that heralded the evacuation of Terra Prime still haunts my dreams. Even though I am a safe colonist on Lunar Prime. The desolate floating of everything on this rock feels like the primal birth of something voidal, gaping, and incessant....
Chapter 1 Atticus sat with his friends at Pizza Hut, the atmosphere buzzing with excitement and relief after they had all successfully passed their final exams. The aroma of freshly baked pizza and the sound of cheerful chatter filled the air as they indu...
Away from the carbon dioxide and the clatter of the city the citizenry sleepwalking. Away from the mainstream breathing fresh air from manifolds in the trees. Playing our Bossa Nova in Mother Nature without mascara to hide the fault lines. Taming the shre...
...crescent thumbnail moon of love's radiant gaze merging soul to heart like a gondola on night's sea cresting the tides with the man on the moon in my fantasy of love's radiant gaze
I decided to take a bus for the last section of the journey. I knew that traffic in the New York City area would be crazed, and no place to try to hitch a ride. I’d had excellent luck hitching so far, perhaps due to the protection of Mishipeshu the cat/dr...
...the sound of silence dissolving beneath a full moon pulsing blood in my veins echoing like a bird with wings soaring into the wind to catch a leaf falling then it becomes a raindrop dripping with a human soul, dream awakening
My rides dried up. I’d had pretty good hitching luck up to then, with only a few long stretches of waiting for cars. Now, the situation had changed. I had a big bloody scabby bruise on the side of my face, right up against my nose. It did not seem to be e...
Layers of brushstrokes and rough edges in one's imagination of a lovely dream where each stroke is a poetic stanza a breath of expression softly released beyond the futon of memory sticks with recycled art seen through the eyes in one's imagination of a l...
...in the faces on the old bark on backroads of memories of musings, doings and lucid dreams of red clay down by the feet of my shadow where Mama now rests surrounded by nature's postcards in the faces on the old bark
Sir Oswald had left the room to see Lord Duckham to his coach, after his Lordship had inspected the new stables and made a very surprising presentation to Jack. So surprising, such a shock that, as Becky pressed against him, he was still wrestling with th...
I must have been lonely. I have a distinct memory of sitting in a park, in where I think is Sudbury, Ontario, my back against the trunk of a large tree, listening to Bruce Springsteen. Specifically, I was listening to the end of “I’m on Fire” off Springst...
Jack Wetherley walked slowly, morosely, along the front of the new stables. Not since the death of his father six years earlier, had he ever felt so low. Passing the open-gated front of the twenty, as yet, unused stalls, he was asking himself whether his...
