The woman in the glasses sits skeleton and quiet behind the desk of mahogany-carved gates of hell. Her eyes like gray bullets molten and shaped in hard cast-iron fire crushed and pressed beneath the silver days of youth.
When the days are cold, I fill them with words; When the nights grow weary, the lessons I’ve learned. The…
A goose goes slowly on the path “Nothing like an evil stash” It thinks, so it waddles to the puddle…
Is now the day for her eternal sleep? Must fate find her quaking at the footsteps of her fears? …
I keep it strapped, taped, sealed The tightest it can be Until its polished edges are digging Digging deep into…
Grains of sand washed away in the tide and I weep at escaping foam I see dotted fish that graze…
I wish there was a way to know, That the 2010s, the decade of our childhood, was coming to an…
There once was a lad named Humphrey Who shat on the side of a tree From grey to brown They…
Time is a Sopwith Camel, flying in figure eights The smoke-trails sutured against a nimbus tapestry stay in place Camels…
Thine eyes shine as bright as the twinkling sky above. But thine eyes of starlight are placed in a heavenly…