Echoes of the past scream on. This pulsation of heinous sound… sound that screeches into my ears!   Echoes of those who scream… This invisible crowd that follows me… Voices! Auditory torments!   Echoes of memory and psychosis… The two entwined like vines over a grave… Bound...

outstaring a blank wall You stand before a wall.It waits, blank as withheld breath.What hovers over you?Drafts unpinned,stories unspoken,videos sealed,pages chasing horizonsthat never arrive.Perfection whispers—a mask for delay.What if you placedone imperfect mark?What if you let motioncarve its shape?The...

© 2025 I am home now, alone in my “office.” I use quotes around it, because we know it isn’t really an office. It is the mudroom. I have a table with a fairly new plywood top. There is...

© 2025The King was too caught up in the recounting of his tale to notice us and continued as he paced, “The water that poured into the pond actually sparkled, even in the dimness of the cave where the only...