August 18, 1788        Mon Cher Donatien     After all of our play, all of our fun and games... little surprised me. Until last night. Now, alone with the truth, I lie here in my own bed, in...

Another lover of words and slang There’s no going back to handjobs Falling short of a sonic gang-bang Her love aches the tension throbs We are both believers in foreplay Syncopated tongues paint delight Against the tide we begin...

The savannah sun begins to riseand paints the blackened earth in amber glowgilding the ground beneath the open skiesa prelude to what I have yet to knowI wander on while morning winds now riseand whisper truths the ancient grasses...