I write the way a pulse movesclose to the surface,restless,honest.Not everything I feel fits cleanlyinto conversation or daylight,but ink has roomfor what the body carries in secret.These pieces come fromthe underside of momentsthe breath before the kiss,the hesitation before...

CLOTHING OPTIONAL" If she was going to auction herself off like a slightly used showroom model, she might as well do it seductively...and naked at Julie and Dave's house.***"Are we late?" Sharon whispered, fumbling with the straps of her...

The servant he cameAnd the servant withdrewTo blend in with the crowdAnd speak for the fewWho were lost in the raceAnd fighting for spaceWhile the tides he did turnIn the end he was spurnedThe servant he spokeWith a grace...