This July, my mother turned seventy. She and I don’t get along too well, and that’s putting it lightly. In fact, we hadn’t spoken for two years. Regardless, seventy is a big number, so even if she was a cruel, manipulative bitch, I decided I owed her a visit. So, I stopped by her house... Continue Reading →
The sparrows flitAmidst autumn grovesOf ash and of oak.Their songs slipLike a gossamer breezeThrough the branches,Whose outstretched armsEmbrace the tuneWith rosy fingers splayed. Beneath the boughs,On a bed of moss,I drift into reverie.The shade is thick,The leaves fall,And the sparrows sing on. I listen with one ear perkedAnd another nestled in dirt.Sleep will take me.Winter... Continue Reading →
Cinders swim In the summer breezeLike gold coinsThrough my fingers. SmokeBeckons with silver plumes.I follow. Its scent is strongWith oak and cherry,And kisses my lipsHello, goodbye.I follow. All aroundThe wreckage playsA symphonyOf crackles and snaps.And the timber singsA friend's sweet elegy.I follow. The world glowsWithin the hot embraceOf orange and scarlet.I surrender. Flames enclose me.All... Continue Reading →
Since then, the air tastes Of mince pies And mulled wine. Winter snow, Skin white, Tickles my nose With a faint, floral perfume. Since then, the sky glows A glossy rouge, and the streets Curve like a woman’s thighs. The sparrows sing In girlish trills, and the doves Talk in a lover’s whisper. Since then,... Continue Reading →
Tulips spring From the morbid earth, Their leaves fleshy and green. One by one, Their petals splay, Tender to smell And to touch. And all the while The sun rises On weepy skies And wind-choked streets. Brown and decrepit, The grass lies low, As bulbs beyond count Slumber in ground below. Alone, The tulips stand... Continue Reading →
A porcelain face lives On the ceiling above my bed. When I lie back, I see Its blue gaze Stained into the sheetrock, And I wait And wonder when The stare will stop. Soon I fall asleep To the caress Of its breath on my brow, And fingers, I imagine, Trace paths through my hair... Continue Reading →
The most popular setting in the fantasy genre is by far medieval times. Whether in our own world or a world fabricated by the author, there is no shortage of stories in the Middle Ages. However, writing a medieval story poses some problems. How do you create an authentic world without alienating the modern-day reader?This... Continue Reading →
Cold sheets crinkle As I wake On a blood Red dawn. Dry winds pluck The summer Flowers bare. Petals clump In grey heaps In the dirt. My toes are numb. Autumn is here.
A fragile fire flickers In my breast, locked Behind bars of pasty bone. The cracked, red coals sputter And the flames lick lower, As they spit Steam and smoke.