Waukegan

We talk too much, Miranda, her feverish sister Sasha said, in her low voice, no secrets come out without silence. I do. Somehow I’ve come to believe that the last thing a writer or any artist thinks about is to make himself comfortable while he’s working. Perhaps the discomfort is a bit of an aid or... Continue Reading →

Or the continuing math of the continuing story. the deep dark motion an expanse that happens to come and go  unpredictable, since the emotion attached to the action or inaction beckons  self-flagellation, mutation, abomination. But today that is not the way I feel or think perhaps it is the sunshine perhaps it is the adherence... Continue Reading →

Powered by WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: