Do you ever vividly dream? Like maybe life is a dream within a dream? Or perhaps a waking nightmare from which we absolutely cannot rouse ourselves? I had one such occurrence happen to me in late 2003 at a fleabag motel in Arizona’s painted desert some four hours north of…

“Nature is my church.” — Unknown — …Mildred nearly had a coronary when a loud, explosive noise emanated from her engine as she drove to the house where she was boarding a room in a nearby rural town. Her day teaching the sons and daughters of the local farmers at the one-room schoolhouse already sapped her energy…

A poem. —

Where are we on the Dooms Day Clock? — …the steel ramrod made its thunderous entry into that tiny, obscure, locked room, in an obscure split-level ranch, in an even more obscure midwestern town. “ATF! Special Weapons & Tactics! Search warrant!”, the leader of the SWAT team screamed as agents behind him cleared the room. Or more appropriately, the…

How much agency do we really have over our actions? …5… …4… …3… [Ocean blue pupils dilating rapidly…] A thunderous crash of steel against rock! Man against nature! The freighter tipped to its side knocking both of us back in opposite directions. The short balding man in a black bandana…

Poetry prompt № 5.

“Anger gets you into trouble. Ego keeps you in trouble.” — It was a pitch dark January night in Southern Indiana. A hilly place where things and people go to disappear. Or be disappeared as the whole of the geography seemed to leap the impenetrable shark of time and space through some hellish, midwestern voodoo. The snow came down harder as…

“They don’t last long here.” —