Poem: Epitaph

continually soaring to new heights
until she fell never to fly again

Poem: Poisoning the Well (Un)Intentionally

He carries venom in his voice
As he curses at the poisons
They want to inject in his body
Believing that his friends know
Better than the doctors and
Better than simple probability

Short Story: Redemption

Sitting on the bridge overlooking the bay I wait.

I know death is coming for me. Again.

A lifetime ago, literally one lifetime ago as of two minutes ago, I was a street magician.

Or a huckster.

It depended on your disposition or my needs. I worked and lived on the street for as long as I could remember. Since I started out as a kid, gainful employment wasn’t an option, and after a trip to juvie and some unpleasant experiences there, I realized a life of crime wasn’t for me either.

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