Sleeping on Otis’ Floor

“Goodnight, asshole,” John says. I see the meaty ghost of his shadow collapse below street-lit window blinds. I hear him thud. He groans like...

My friend, Fernando

“Why is my wine always at the end?” said my friend, Fernando. “Because you drink too much,” I said. “I don’t drink too much at one...

Find Me Alive at Sunrise

I left while the sun was setting and came back before the dark anchored in for the night, before the neighbourhood came out to devour...

Acknowledgement of Limitation on Unrestricted Interpretation

I undertake not to use this poem for any purpose associated with the promotion of nuclear, chemical, biological, spiritual, sexual or conventional warfare, nor...

Poetry Grab Bag

Aren’t there mornings

144

nsa poem

107

Sylvia

626

Visual Arts

The Evolution of Yes

342

Random pieces

420

In a Camper

114

Fiction

Sleeping on Otis’ Floor

“Goodnight, asshole,” John says. I see the meaty ghost of his shadow collapse below street-lit window blinds. I hear him thud. He groans like...

Find Me Alive at Sunrise

I left while the sun was setting and came back before the dark anchored in for the night, before the neighbourhood came out to devour...

Acknowledgement of Limitation on Unrestricted Interpretation

I undertake not to use this poem for any purpose associated with the promotion of nuclear, chemical, biological, spiritual, sexual or conventional warfare, nor...

Earth-Held

I Like Donald Trump

Air Bag

My friend, Fernando

Gajra