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the man awakes from his dream Hedda to a morning as dark & uninspiring as a poorly written Soliloquy too be, or knot to be, that is the egestion he chuckles at his self-whit then ruminates that he was once a “good” writer but alas no more since she took his thesaurus & she discovered — read more

September 1st   And life north of  the Forty-Fifth Parallel has grown age’d   And it’s still hot  Bumble bees, along with the yellow jackets, are for the most part few Occasionally but more frequently, one sees the insect remainders on the ground, and flitting with the ghost of Death, orchestrating all  And soon, the Equinox and — read more

Doughnutmen of all countries unite! — The Coconut Malassada  A Dieselpunk Dream where every Friday, the neo-technical Machine “Maillard’s Meniacal Mayhemficato & Donut (sic) Maker” belches out perfect glazed rings of doughnutatery delight  in massive volume for the Wanting Masses.  And the location of said Machine? Betty’s Donutland, where I sit on the stool counterside, — read more

The time, the place; irrelevant to all that follows. As this is an ode-less ode on an elegy on Passion and Tomatoes. An elegy with no couplets, elegiac or otherwise, save for two young bodies coupleting in hot passion during a hot August night under a hot silver full moon hung in a hot night — read more

The true measure of your life consists of your birth and your death; everything in between is filler — Thomason’s Guide to Yard Sticks: History, Usage, and Practical Examples And he asks how much time does thirty-six inches contain?  And in what measurement: is an inch an hour? How many centuries fit on the head — read more

Donuts is as Donuts was — Attributed to Alexander Pope You’ve never truly experienced a Solar System Cruiser’s Owen Space-Tyme (sic) Field Generator up close and personal until you’ve stood nude next to the Manifold during spooling. Like I’ve been known to do. Before the pilot induces the Fold. When the calculations have been done. — read more

It is my considered opinion that the Kama Sutra is pure fiction based on lurid dreams and outsized nostalgia. And so Marcel would state with authority at the few parties he attended. He was noted for his expert analysis of “all things.” And if put to the test, all experts would agree.  And although this — read more

Part I Because you’ve been with the woman for a while now. Grown used to her.  And her, you. You two know each other’s habits. And foibles. Sojourners.  And out on the Scablands, the two of you cross the barren ground to the lost horizon The Scablands; desolate, devoid of life.  Except everpresent rock.  As — read more

Eventually, Ajax Handon finds himself crewed on an Astronomy Craft. Transiting the cold distance of interstellar space to the Altair System. A craft lost out in the G Clouds. Far from Earth. A craft half machine, half living. A craft that manipulates space and time and distance. And fate? In the long cryo-sleep, he dreams. — read more

He came to be from a sleep (or, perhaps, a dream?) drawn out in duration. Long time abounds in that place. A man might get lost. Her final words to him. How? She looked away. Looked out the wide window of her kitchen. Morning now. Bright sun light filled the void between them. After the — read more