A summer solstice poem — When the sun sinks, russet into thirsty land and the breeze turns, suddenly round the clock — the Earth says; “That’s it folks! See you in December!” — can I hold your hand? Can I wear your hoody? Can I rest my goosebump-covered calves on your thighs and bury my bare toes…

It’s always a time to meet one — We didn’t really know where we were going. Or rather, each of us thought the other knew. So from time to time, I would ask you, “Left here?” or “Shall we take the forty-eighth highway?” and you would say, “All right,” and then you would ask me, “Shall we go…

Poetry — The pen says words are hurt This world does not see their pain Words say they must be written down before the pain starts to rain The pen says I miss the time When we were together Like a bird with the rainbow feather The words used to jump on…

I dare to leap — Trace of a road not taken appeared When I scanned the trail for way To cross complacent stream Sparkling welcome rather than threat From surging ice-cold snow melt. Branches whipping my face, Boots sliding on untrustworthy leaves, I spot a way to cross the stream, Guarded by moss-covered innocents Tempting the bold and…

A short story and poem — The mighty giant doesn’t like to weep, For many things he cannot keep. There was something inviting and serene about this end of the forest. It was charming in essence with a golden glow shining upon the leaves. The essence enamored and sparkled in the warm sunlight. The origins of…

… Where a compass twitches between What, Where, When and Who — Waking, panic-stricken, on the Forest floor: scrabbling around for the day of the week which determines what is required of me and where we’re meant to be that day, plus the energy required to get us there. Vitamin tablet dissolves in water, beside the bed. (The kind that makes your piss luminescent.) Placebo…