Find the sinkhole

I have decided to write the gray American novella, where nothing is great just chalky grey like the Greys pasty anatomy of conspiracy theories where secret service reptilian half-breeds are always British. Meanwhile, the natives are restless and a stretch of doom creeps, breathless. Jagged ex-whys and all the imagination in dream land won't fix … Continue reading Find the sinkhole

Fourth

Today 6.4 earthquake rattled the spur of land stretching between Death Valley and downtown where dreams are dashed. And here I sweat on the screen porch taking in the endless human hums from the park nearby--oh how to scream like a child swimming in summer! - the whippoorwill, the engines passing by the old folks, … Continue reading Fourth