I Hid My Eyes Behind Your Sofa

(Jan. 2007) There is a place where unicorns go. It's not a place found in any map, nor any book. It may not even be real, but they go th...

Nephilim Morning (January 2007) Josh MacLeod “After the snow, there will be ice.”           That’s what she said to be over the phone, but I...

On Writing, or: Hack’s Truths Daniel Johnstone, interviewing (recording) Joseph Harmsburg, noted author and, the interviewer notes, promisin...

Home is where the heart is, saying Uttered by those who never leave. Mine is stranded, piggish; rotting on The island where she never leaves...

Border crossing hacked down raw ditches, fragile pond swamps under grey clouding slowly bleached white from above. When is the sky only one ...

I feel a sorrow for lost tomorrows All those little dreams we never redeem: No ways, only truths, bombast without proof; Under all gladness ...

Needing a word for things we have no words for, Silences filled with grey noise contrails in the air; Hungry for bodyspeech smiles, proof th...

Dreams are only good for the things we can't hold. Moonbeams and lotteries, broken hopes and this moment: Words are twisty ropes but dre...

To be able to forget Is all we desire from heaven; To cling to no regrets Is all we need from this life.

There are highways that are lost Streets devoid of names; I once knew someone who Swore 'til blacker than blue Drinking was a man's ...