I have 41 stories published in
one collection on the site.
My stories have been read 39342 times
and 21 of my stories have been cherry picked. 1 of my 35 comments have been voted Great Feedback with a total of 2 votes
I am driving into the mist and sky with the windows open. I am touched, drenched, wet with beauty, dripping song. The air hangs, deep and alive with rain. My tiny voice
We walk through streets empty of all language and so I say nothing accordingly. Not looking at you is hard to manage and I never do these things well. I see
are scratches on the night’s skin, cold as blades of grass and wet as lips. They do not change. They move, hung in constellations given sense by the myths we create here,
every level of us is imperfect theory. It is the rough tongue of experience makes the universe’s primal unevenness evident. As the eye fissions the previously perfect line,
This is a prayer for the bored sitting, becalmed in the day, endlessly at 10.17, forever only one third of the way into something, whatever that something is. These words are for those