And now for part one of our multipart nostalgic miniseries. Because it is Christmas, and this is what people do at Christmas. Drunken eggnog aside, lets get down to it shall we?


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As I pierced through the burgeoning hallway of romance -the ninny nickers and nay sayers close in toe- I experience a moment of hesitation, before letting my electric lime velure earn its worth. I would have to endure the heat of the rail just a moment longer, before my arrival to the garage of the lions den. And as I found a nice fit, letting the ( Read more... )

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Last night I dreamt of you -in my routine tree-house excursion. You, the magical marauding multicolored mistress of my distress. Nothing more than an anachronistic plight, you said, a posthumous fantasy ( Read more... )

We are the music makers. And we are the dreamer of dreams.

The Keys to Your Heart
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i can hear the whispering echos

playing the dead man's crescendo

just calling

calling me away

and in the sun swept blisters

of torn apart fissures

i never seem to quiet


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