exercising my house

It's the polite thing to do.

feast for the hungry (ode to progress part ii)

And oh! have I told you about the dog fighting? ... Delicious to watch, delicious to taste!

cycles of sleep (ode to progress part i)

...please say yes...

[Document 1] – lost in the cache

And, since the computer itself will be immersed in old sloppy-joe and rotting paella, the vent ports will close up with grease and wet rice and the temperature of the internals will rise a few degrees.

three writing prompts received by email on a wednesday afternoon

I am dying, you see, and in that act of dying, I am realizing that death itself is an impatient schoolmaster.


Maybe a physical shadow – skin cells left that have combined their DNA with the tendriled confusion of the clovered outfield...

love in the time of death

... Death has begun to grip even me with its own arms, its own skeletal wrists bejeweled with anger and contempt.

meaning of the word knowing the meaning, i might control it.

crum’s morsel (or a thing changing)

Crum went on about this place, lingering on its smells and secret footprint and whispers of rodentine residents as if it was a temple set in the lush forests of some distant land. Or maybe he saw it as a kind of Terabithia where dreams rose and fell like a restless tide from the sleep of the dead.

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