Skip to main content

Posts

Featured

Crests and Troughs

The waves wicked edges
whipped up to a frothy white
washed over the bow.  Where
we're going I do not know.  Wild lands
or weak waters, both preferable
to this bitter winter war.

(1/2018)

Latest Posts

Don't Touch Anything

Sang et Eau (Blood and Water)

The Point

Stepping Off

Mid-November

Professor...?

Orion's Belt

Scorched

Says the Baboon to the Leopard

Bulbs