Three Different Ways:
Dreams, Madness, and Myths

  • Silly Girl, I Wasn’t Thru

    Deep laughter echoing through worlds and dreams. I know that sound so well. I thought I would never hear it again. My heart both rose and fell. “I’ve sent you an invite, informal and vulgar. Through muck and field, for you. Don’t know why you’ve tossed away my number, Silly girl, I wasn’t thru.

  • Operation

    “Oh, there you are.” He looked up at the sound of her voice. Nervously, he tried to cover the paper he was writing on with his hands. Which only focused her attention on the scribbles and marks. “What are you doing?” When he stuttered, she looked up at his face. “And why are you so…

  • Rum And Cigars

    I took the door not meant for me. You laughed and offered me a chair. I sought only advice. You laughed and gave gifts. I told you what I wanted. You laughed and gave me what I needed.

  • A Fine Day For A Hanging

    Another day, another town. I really didn’t stop to look what the name of this one was. Even if I did learn it, it would be forgotten by the time I was on the main street of the next town. I noted the dress of the locals varied from 1950’s American Suburbia to Old West…

  • To Oshun, From Margaret’s Daughter

    Your skin glistens, draping your form like sun-warmed honey. Full of the sweetness and delights of womanhood.

  • My Backyard

    The wind plays tag with the plump birds in the trees. Chasing them from this branch to that branch. Catching them unaware and laughing as they mutter noisily amongst themselves. The roses bloom all about me. Pouring their scent onto the dancing zephyrs. Hearing the confessions of the bees in exchange for cast off pollen.

  • You Are Here

    Everything was white. I couldn’t tell where the floor ended and where the ceiling began. If there was a ceiling. I had yet to encounter a wall. Or chair. Or another person. Or a speck of dirt. Everything was white, glowing white. Except for me. I’m still in the clothes I left for work in.

  • Rising Fire

    Settled down. Tucked into bed. At rest feeling the day’s issues slide into the past. Only thinking of the pleasure of sleep. Not considering the troubles that would wake with the dawn. It’s good to rest. To feel the blood in my veins, the air moving in my lungs. Engaged in the symphony of senses.

  • The Call

    He watched his roommate pace back and forth for hours. Each time he passed the phone, he would linger for the briefest of moments. Unusually bright eyes caressed each curve and dirt stained buttons. He had tried to get his roommate to sit down, to be distracted by the routine they had built up together.

  • I Have A Little Poppet Doll

    So. Um. Here’s another reason why Keri should wait for the coffee to kick in before getting near any communication device in the morning. Oh Twitter, you suffer my abuses of language, and you do it so well.

Got any book recommendations?