Vein
This is my monster finding its port, this is the siphoning, the spinning that brings revelation.
Draft Work
My own writing – fiction, poetry, random snippets
Excalibur
It was too early in the morning for many cars to pass her as she stumbled forward on the small 2-lane road that smelled as though it were Northern. Her nose had not always been better for dodging blows than differentiating the delicate blooms, tasting the terroir between wines, but for now, all she knew was this idea of North of before. Of colder than Then. Of the phone call she had to make now that she was utterly and completely exhausted of all other resources.
Cricket
The trains are running cargo. They are far off in the distance, but you can hear the Ferdinand in their charging horns riding the ambient…