As I have been playing with the idea of writing a time travel story, several ideas have occurred to me. Some of these ‘ideas’ I don’t remember anymore. I should…

I last saw him that Sunday. Sitting on an old pine log like a nuthatchstaring at the white morning glory in his garden. With quivering hands, he waved as the…

And I was off, pedaling madly on a dusty dirt road, my disheveled ponytail damp with sweat. Messy bun. Ball of keratin stress. I winced in pain, my thumbs bleeding,…

I was spit out the other end of an arrogance high a confident saunter into adult separationas if peeling the dysfunction from my skin would lead to a cellular replacement  Now a renewed adolescentI…

Click here to read Part 1.Click here to read Part 2. Loir-et-Cher, France 1742Château de Chambord, in search of the alchemist Count of St. Germain A return to the northern European climate was a…

In a late spring rain, the monk made his way along the covered stone path. Glancing out toward the garden where lay brothers were setting out new plants, undeterred by…

to be bright       and carry oni wanted in       but also wanted outyou all looked like dancing mummies from here andthe bedroom is always safe for me friendship          or i hate herfucking               but also i’m…

This is the room where we tell stories about the future. It is curved, spacious, and filled with light. The deep stone window frames have no glass, allowing a cool…

dear future me  i felt bad that morning  looking at your imperfect posture when you sat sad deep-like-a-well black eyes  I truly felt bad  although A lot may say I…

She’s smiling      the woman whose husband      will shortly have her murdered           whose thimble, whose sheets      whose husband’s flesh           will soon be warmed           by a more obliging body      with a lot…