Immersed in the land of Georgia Pine., a glimpse. The mysterious, ethereal image was the first I found. It helps shape the divine character I see…
Leave a CommentCategory: POETRY & PROSE
I like to fix things, the fixer am I. Without a toolbox filled with talisman, memory and crazy glue, the fixing proves difficult. A house…
2 CommentsWhen I’m stressed, I clean. When I’m confused, I clean. When I’m angry, I clean. Exhausted, nauseated, in full-blown Benzo withdrawal. Not permitted by my…
2 CommentsThis morning I told my mother to fuk off. I did not mean it, not exactly. Living here, where I don’t want to be, being…
Leave a Commenttoday is a three-part kind of day I know. I used to see Phillip Seymour Hoffman in the Village, head-down, unassuming posture. The year was…
Leave a CommentI watched On the Road this week-end, and wanted to pack a bag, just go. I felt the itch crawling up and down my spine.…
Leave a CommentThey ask too much, expect more from me. To sit in a room with gut wrenching, broken, beaten down souls. There is too much pain, upon…
One CommentI never paid much attention to a normal, calendar year. When you have a serious illness, days are measured in hours, minutes and even…
One CommentWe talk about it. Yeah, we do. In my house, we talk about a lot. The mundane living stuff, movies, books, music, groceries, even the…
One CommentRummaging through junk, I rediscover hidden treasure. Time and distance put fresh perspective into meaning. An antique chest of drawers once belonged to my grandfather.…
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