we all shine on into the mystic
it’s like butter melting into brown sugar or like listening to hendrix play little wing or hearing hope return to the voice of a friend or loo...
it’s like butter melting into brown sugar or like listening to hendrix play little wing or hearing hope return to the voice of a friend or loo...
It started slow—a bead of warmth at the base of my stomach. It was an ordinary day, it may even have been a Monday, but this detail escapes me. There was nothin...
The stray cat, who sits at the window of my basement office each morning, composed within her cloud of fur, unnerves me, for I think she pities me. Yesterday he...
Poetry and music to banish the white blight of February, and stir a bit of lime in your coconut.