The crow makes a grab at the running mouse,
But too, late, he makes into the underbrush
And is long gone. The food chain can be random.
The wind is rather cool, but the sun is bright,
A spring afternoon down by Putah Creek.
01 Jan 2019
04 May 2019
Love and hope walk together down the same street. Sunset, sunrise, midnight; it doesn’t matter. Step by step they walk, arms linked. S...
A cold night. I shiver as I write down the names of the gods I deny, and then erase them all. The page is again blank. Each time I erase a ...
Like blood on the hands of a policeman, like the screams of a beaten prisoner; a cat cries out in the night. It is the sound of my life spr...