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this one is a few years old...but it is a favorite.

something that I have been toying with, and brought to life with the help of my friend, JW! Thanks!

the usual morning family antics

scrape maggots from my metaphors, and swat the foaming unrhymed flies. the construct is eviscerated; blood dried to crumbly brown crust. beneath..

a selection from a series I wrote called Barfly Eagles and Steeltoed Saints.

RIP Charles Bronson. thanks for all the 'shoot em up' memories. you are missed.

hahaha! I don't know what to call it...some sort of poetic hybrid that nature never intended.

all puns intended. no apologies.

crimson lioness she leaves the train as an orchard apple; red shoes, unscathed, hung from sleek pale wind-rhythm limbs. as she drifts the stree..

wounded rodent flops dark blood looks brown in sunlight just die already!