I'd Rather Sink Than Swim


She laid silently under the dark purple sky. The grass beneath her whispered secrets as the wind swept by, begging her to stay just a while longer. She breathed shallow as the world wept, caressing her face, gently flowing through the strands of her hair. Her teeth chattered lightly as her warm tears mixed with the cool rain. The beauty that poured from above left her in awe; kissing each droplet that hit her lips. She looked around observing the stone graves, each so strong, holding ghosts that made goose bumps run along her skin. The trees groaned as the wind turned to evil shadows striking everything it crossed. It blew her hair furiously in all directions. The sky light to a sparkling blue, shocking the whole world with a fluorescent white, almost blinding. As the glow washed over the trees and the graves, it made eerie black flames dance in the grass. Soon this storm would pass and all the beauty would slowly die. Until then she would wallow in it, breathing in the life bursting through the night sky, crying her pain, sharing the sadness with the benevolent beauty that lay above her.

Print Another Madness

My muse returned just in time as my bile rose again. It came back with a vengeance. I could hardly hold my tongue.

In the land of a thousand rivers a man was gunned down between rocks and greed.

Then they slew him again on vapid front pages of necrotic newspapers.



so easy
lose myself
find myself
stubborn patterns.


Writing meeting

Rack and rose. Space-time esophagus. Break the answers. Span the discomfort.

Make my French toast crazy. Spread the nonsense. An empire of writers. “I wasn’t interested.”

Clay bursts, Broca’s television channel. Power shunts, what shunt does all the time.

“Oh, no! Not yes!” The tragedy of owning Thursday nights. Dirty rose secret.

The Journey to Yes. Be great at what you don’t do. Spike that cliché at the end goal.

Outrovert. “Where do you play?” Safety in bludgeoning. A day late to my obituary.