Description: A FINE MESS or A small collection of bric-a-brac
poetry (4299) end of the world (51) fictions (28) errantpoet (1) cottonwoodclub (1)
In the thick of it with the Cottonwood Club at the Danforth gallery weaving an apocalyptic tale about the Waif and Admiral Apothecary. Thanks to John Zumpano for the shot and to Dalton C. Brink the mad curator.
Edward dear, time to wake up, the gentle nurse said nudging the old man in his wheelchair parked in a sunny spot on the lawn. He smiled at her as he lifted his head. Sweetheart, you can call me Tex.
Death rides a ragged bull on the dark nights of new moon. Smokes crystal from a carburetor. Dry laughter carries through the air like a rusted weather vane turning in a storm. In the morning people complain of poor sleep.