Poetry

“Though slave to him I plan to kill, From here on in I mean to do the things I will...”

Poetry

Panpsychism (believed in by those who know what particle physics is but are uneasy with “Big Bang” as a search term) has its limits I suspect...

Poetry

"I try to learn the prose of life, but my slavish reproduction of its speech is wooden..."

Poetry

"Past and future stored away, Under seat and overhead..."

Poetry

"I tried to ride my Pegasus indoors, twisting and turning, bending over backwards..."

Poetry

"Rolling from silver-blue, round powdered edges, outside to in, overshadowing hedges..."

Poetry

"Last night, the winds went wild at war, their gusts and gales made chaos swarm, and then . . . they weren’t there anymore."

Poetry

He was the last of the great romantic mopes . . .