THE JASPER BROTHERSIt was a hot muggy day.Surprisingly for late October.I'd been home in my apartmentbare ass naked all morning.Only visible to my imaginary catSocks. Technically, he was alsonaked. But he could lick himself.I have never managed the stunt.Although,...

I. Forged SilenceIn a furnace of patience,bronze becomes melted memory—ore drawn from dark veins,forged in the gorge of impermanence.Each hammerbeat molds intention;flame licks the cusp of silence.Metal softens toward surrender,its glow rehearsing stillness.Hands withdraw from the heat,letting the fire...

PETTING KITTY She purrs...enjoying the touch.She rises to meet the hand.You can see the want in her eyes.More! Don't stop! Don't ever stop! Kisses and cuddles! The purringincreases in volume. A special momentof love between them. The hand feverishly strokes the...

I. Genesis of Ink (墨の創世)  In the lull before meaning, I waited—paper pallid as forgotten horizon.No words dared their first footfall,no quill still believed in its spill. Silence rehearsed its own exhalation,a specter of half-formed thought.Ink, my pilgrim of persistence,stirred beneath...

<span;>Whether the welkin is painted in shades <span;>of blue or obsidian, <span;>the moon's <span;>ethereal<span;> candlelight <span;>has always dawned a quelling kiss atop <span;>my often somber laced mind, <span;>and smiles to eagerly anticipatory eyes.. <span;>... As " in these moments...