Friday, September 07, 2018


I get the best text messages

This just in from our west coast correspondent:

"With so many Shakespeare plays to base one's life on, why would anyone chose to be the college talent show version of The Merchant of Venice?"

Wednesday, June 27, 2018


I still get the best text messages.

This recently in from our west coast correspondent.

"Please, what can you say about anyone who complains about all the "effeminate piano players"??? it's like going to a drag show, or Shakespeare and complaining about all the men dressed as women."


Thursday, December 07, 2017


Roughly translated from the original Elvish:

Treachery wears a beautiful mask
Carved of fine bone and feathered with light
Concealing a darkness
That will swallow your heart whole
With the tenderest kiss
From a mouth full of knives


Wednesday, October 18, 2017

My trivia team finally took first place at the new... Now year-old venue. I am walking home through the quiet dark seeing Halloween decorations resolve themselves out of the shadows. I should be giddy. Yet I want no more than to curl up in a disused corner and escape into dream, praying dawn never comes. This is the mantle of depression.

Monday, August 08, 2016


collecting the pieces

I came across a few bits from the end of last year. Not terribly happy stuff... but then again how often is it with me. LOL!

People live.
People die.
Countless perfections gone
In the blink of an eye.
You cannot
Save them.
Mortality will be.
What you can do
Is keep them,


In the tumbled crumble
Of the ruined plan
Can you excavate
The intention
Of my brilliant scam?
I am nothing
I dis-play
I am all in the space
The witty repartee
And the place
The sacred space,
Where one breathes
Between lines
And prays to the gods,
That what we want
Is reality,
And we are
The favored odds.

Lost time musings

He knows my places
My obscure spaces
Where I hide my words,
And yet
I need
To tell you.
I have thought of you
Now and then
For a while.
I had hoped
On this night
Gambling four to one
The stars would align
And guide us
Into proximity.
Would do the rest.
Is why
I shouldn't gamble.

Sunday, March 20, 2016


R.I.P. Jeff

Is this the new gravesite?
The new roadside shrine?
A corner of cyberspace in binary scribed?
Is this the place
That will collect
Open and receive
Our tears
And our anger
Bewildered silence
Our spat curses
And spilled beers?
Again one of us has been taken
Unannounced and too soon
And we rail
And we keen
In perfect futility,
Until we feel
We have protested enough
To the cold unfeeling universe.
There is no answer in grief.
No solution.
No balm.
Only a slowly filling emptiness
Hungry for the sediment of life’s
Continued erosion
And gouged deep
By this final
And terrible

Monday, December 21, 2015


a modicum of mania

I felt it...
Below the surface
Last night,
But only just.
Now percolating?
But here now
And in bloom.
Like magic in my veins.
Like divine madness
And perfection's own clarity
It surrounds me
And infuses me
God help me
In my revelry
To not be guilty...
When the tide

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