Monthly Archives › December 2019

Satyricon Rising, Part I

The eye hot, the head hang, the hand heavy, the heart broke. This that I dream, that I clutch in the mist, that I wear on the sleeve, that I cloak in the crook. The secret breaks. The tale bends. The faces white. The pleasure bleak. Way the far go, wend the fey sail. Never

Yesterday Was Winter

A look passes between us, speaking volumes. We are the same, you and I, both trapped in a reality not of our making. An outline of a recollection arises from the deep recesses of the mind…a vision of another place, one that exists without empty men with lead-lined holes where the castles of their souls