it has been found that only the cowardly and the foolish refuse to act when the universe unfurls before them the resolution to their quandaries....

plastic, electoral bombardment.

peanut buttered bananas, coffee and milk. dogs barking at birds, cats scratching at silk. collapse is not imminent, merely perchance. the dance is not over, just gone the romance. glad tidings bowled over by dank, dark despair. how much longer the winter? how much more of their ilk?

a gentle breeze to kiss my knees and put my troubles mind at ease....

crafting afternoon soup.

standing there on the other side of those not so distant hills, our window cracked a bit, the outskirts of my mind reached for a taste of the ocean breeze, invited inside by a wayward zephyr....

moon vibes.

rarely flustered, sometimes sore, accordion at the grocery store....

in the ditches, washing dishes.

shorts a bit too long.
my ego, fighting to live.
close my eyes and smile....

true love's kiss.

in and around the witching hour, some 13 years ago, our heroes maniacally groped at time and luck and chance, kissing underneath the moon beneath shadowy palms in turnabout alleyways, beginning a new chapter that promised always to remember, and never to close....

when we die, the stories we have written may haunt our remains. yet someday also might they disappear....