Tricksters Automatic

It was a rock honeycomb. A honeycomb rock. Depending on which side you looked at it. Tiny little creatures hiding in the crevices. Pointy caps, snub noses, blood stained teeth. Pretty girls in tutus. Boys in knickerbockers. Red corneas and skeletal wings. Thieves and fiends. Do gooders and haters. Shining brilliant, flamboyant haters. They stoodContinue reading “Tricksters Automatic”

Epiphanies in snuff boxes.

Beautiful days falter in their rhythm but not before the right amount of sunshine seeps into your bones, your hair, your eyes. A never ending morning which stretches… till it snaps. Billie Holiday waltzing into Jack Kerouac’s arms. Words tumbling after words tumbling after words with a voice from another time…. another place. The a.mContinue reading “Epiphanies in snuff boxes.”