The poems buzz and rattle in the wires, so much I’ve had to encase them in images to quiet them and hold them still. Now they stand in jars stacked neatly in the gallery. Open them and take a sniff, dip your finger and taste them if you dare. But when you are done, make sure you have replaced the lid.
The night has passed and the edge of the dawn creeps into sight.
There are many short stories here. More appear every time I dream and wake to find the jumbled mess my mind makes of everything. In order to find them easily you can choose one here. I hope you enjoy them.
Let One Hundred Thousand flowers bloom.
Let the stars fall upon the beaches.
Soft is the whisper of the cooling universe.