The Killing Machine

The Our Father

Daddy Long-Legs
Moves ToThe City

Desperation Show

the burning jar


american gothic

the presents of loss

ourselves forsaken

our killing machine

salamander pond

american gothic

Even from the sidewalk this house smells of age mothballsm yellow VIctorian photographs ; of dusty old clothing starched-hanging heavy in the attic--chewed by neglect gathering cobwebs like loneliness.

But outside on the pavement, through the crowd in clean white jogger's T's, there are things alive, things untouched--a sudden strong back in red shorts and high tops whistles then fades like vapor down the boulevard.

2River Crossing My WordsScared by the DarkThe Killing MachineCover