Tonight is the night when all souls leap from the shadows Behind frosted glass and wicked arches they hide They leap they scurry they fly upon the dark winds of the night.  And tonight clouds reign above the orange yellow sun And everything turns murky as little faces peer through the looking glass And into…

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It’s the day where I’m thinking back on my visit to the city which I took Thursday night, and I can see the whole weekend stretching ahead of me with  open arms. Here’s a toast to infinity. A toast to weekends. And a toast to precious, dreamless waking! For the weekends are my infinity… And…

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  She put her head down towards the ground, muddied, bloodied, a skull weighing fifty ton more than it ought to. The vein on her forehead throbbed as her migraine returned, the one that returned every autumn with a vengeance. Yet now, all she could see were the black-laced branches above her. Howling, screaming, the trees…

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   Do you ever write something and worry that you’ll be put into a psychiatric ward after publishing it? Is that the sign of a good story or a strange mind?   

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Sometimes little things Make you scream Like mean little pictures About everything.  And the lights of the day Ranging from orange till black Make you hear all the things In the dark Which go CRACK.  …and you know you hear someone At the window? At the door? And you feel some whispering you didn’t feel…

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Waking up on a Saturday morning is wonderful. I can get work done. I can smell a fresh cup of coffee brewing downstairs and I’m already hungry and imagining a decadently fluffy stack of pancakes calling my name. And the best part is that I feel so relaxed, rejuvenated, and ready to take on this…

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   Ironic Fortunes: Sometimes you ask where your writing road is headed. Sometimes you don’t see the road.  And other times you’re cryptic and the road is a method of philosophic means to get across a deep point that nobody wants to hear.  Happy Friday. 🙂

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Have you ever had a deja vu moment? I had one yesterday and it was surreal. Of course, being superstitious (and a writer), I had to figure out why immediately. So I went online (the mother load of true knowledge- forget the Library of Alexandria) and saw everything from para psychologists to reincarnation. Who knows?…

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  It’s true. I believe I’m an introvert, at least, I think I am one. I don’t talk much and parties definitely drain me. The only way I can feel outgoing is by drinking two cups of coffee, but then I’m so hyper that I barely hear what I have to say. But writing is so…

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