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…
My mother told me that cats can see demons. Cats, of all things! Why them? Cats, the little creatures that…
Specks of white come falling Falling down to Earth I hear my mother calling I step onto the hearth The…
Calloused hands work on the temple walls attempting to soothe the spirit within. Thrashing more and more as the sun…
In the silent, stirring, woods, Where squirrels store snacks Scavenged from spiny shrubs Stability is secured. ‘Till tuesday told a…
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…
/hōm/ · When my heart is split / my family spread out / what is home? A familiar or usual…