Pelton and the Paraladies
I begin writing, for it feels like the beginning of the end.
Lids, Sticks, Joe Loss
Twenty-five years ago, my brother-in-law, Bob, stepped into the courtyard back of a London pub to take a piss. He walked into six Asians with a grievance and long, sharp knives.
Jeremy Browne's Guest
And in his dark secret moments, grey-faced or not, Jeremy Browne sat in his special chair in the garage and whispered at the boxes, the gloom.
A Gray Impalpable World
I feel her annoying heart beating against my chest and I wish it would stop. Just stop so we could end this masquerade.
I consider turning it rightside up, but decide it makes a statement this way. I'm always making statements. It's hard work, too.