History
History  First it was the fragment singing its broken oratorio against the orotund and fragrant whole. We...
History  First it was the fragment singing its broken oratorio against the orotund and fragrant whole. We...
The Wovel  On Morning Edition today there was a piece on The Wovel, an audience plotted web novel. It is...
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Monozone was deep into panic. Beneath the zippered, gridlocked surface, under stockings,...
Thomas Hardy These are perfect sonnets by the master. His thought is crabbed, his metre a little eccentric...
Tim Congdon Tim sent me this in February of 2008. I will miss him. He ‘tore through the iron gates of...
CHAPTER SIXTEEN Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Every time I shut my eyes to sleep I saw exploding glass. Or felt the...
This is a quixotic post, more personal than I usually do, and really, it’s just a signal sent out into...
A Midnight Thirst  A midnight thirst comes upon me. The air between us burns. We bend to the moon. ...