Now I stand here, facing the -mare and the dream. I sing to my beloved, and she sings to me.
Sing to Me
Rainy Day Jazz
Good jazz on a rainy day sits deep in my chest like sipping whiskey
Willow-Like
We flow, blurring the fading wike between writer and write
Old Clouds
With lethargic vim, the clouds roll overhead as I hope they do when I'm 94
Artful Presence
Smell a flower from the field, see the bee depart. Learn from them all that you can - sing in tune with the art
The Dark Shelf
Darkness seems to lie in wait - in every shadow that we make
Odd Adventures, Pt. II: Ashes, Ashes
Finally after a few minutes, with the pile of ashes at his feet growing to a sizeable hill, his fingers struck the hard, solid wood. He widened the hole so they could see more easily, and he removed one more large chunk. They both gawked at the sight.
Odd Adventures, Pt. I: The Clearing in the Woods
He was going to run over to her and throw his arms around her, but he didn't want to forget where the path was, so he took off his shoes and placed them on either side of the path inside the clearing. That way, he'd know where to place his first foot as he made his way back out, if "out" existed.
Here’s A Poem
Sometimes we have to choose to not take ourselves too seriously - Ooo... So here's a poem. Bye. Oooo. (Bayou???)
December Rose 