The box
A poem
Musings on film, tv, books, games, music, writing, food, drink and life in general.
A poem
A poem.
A poem.
Walking the Ghost On the windy winding way I hear trees crying their autumn tears while clouds hang like childhood
The Whales II Glasnost in Alaska, near Point Barrow the ice is bare and vicious, the way out is narrow
The Whales Putu comes up again for air spraying sparkling water everywhere her snout falls like a granite ship passing