The bitter wisp
of winter's kiss
as frozen fear.
this numb land
in winter's hand.
We come undone
in the absent sun.
our endless run
headed way south
from winter's mouth.
Like the smell of rain on the grass, or diesel in a crosswalk, They were inevitably, Part of the family compound. Like a scorpion in t...
I know I have every right to take all the time I need to grieve. The world is a tragic place where golden children sometimes die...
It isn't always sippin' lattes and cashing royalty checks...sometimes authors have to fashion themselves for hard work. I offer you...
Survival favors the fittest, and yet, Nature abhors a vacuum. There is only one thing, I know of, that will tell of the same thing, ...
As a novelist and a human, I am plagued by the voice of my inner critic at times. Given the lagging sales of novels and author earnings r...