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There were savage cowboys and wild Indians, when my grandparents were born. Texas cattle, the steel plow and steam were all the rag..

Salty kisses in a booth near the back ring like funeral bells in October, “Last call, last call.” floats through blue neon, so ..

Fireflies illuminate memories in my dream forest,perfumeon your shouldersin astrobelight fantasy. I turn, and there you are, a Nightbird w..

The taste of salt makes my blood pound,. my eyes roll up, and my back arch. The smell of a juicy peach, fresh and sweet i..

Out there in the real world,the redbuds and dogwoodsexplode like fireworkson the side of the mountain.Purple shrapnel flies outto mix with dots..

It is fine to eat spiced food, the taste of hot sauce like fire across my tongue. It is good to hear a slow guitar, the wail of blues..

It is a hundred and four degrees out there on this week after solstice, and I think I’ve had an epiphany. I’m not positive yet..

A journey into the surreal...

Sometimes nothing happens when the blue of dark stares past these eyes, into my bones, and paints vague ‘scapes indistinc..

When I close my eyes, I can hear the smoke and sand of your voice, and I think of how it was in that genesis when everything ..