Aging and the Oceans

We parked on a steep street in Oceanside. There was a fog in the sky and the sun had dipped into the horizon. The sky was now the hazy blue of dawn, the time of reflection. I could hear the ocean from the car, through the cracked windows; collapsing over itself and onto the beach. …

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an exercise: out of the fire

There’s a bridge in the distance. On the other side of the river. I can see the legs of it create great European arches in the cliffs, shouldering the weight of thousands of cars – thousands of lives – as it sits, precariously deployed against the face of the mountain. The mountain itself is steep, …

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till the end.

tear away my pencil point, break away the led, confiscate my laptop, then the words will stick inside my head, you’d have to beat me twice to death, burn my skin and leave my gory, and even with my dying breath, with blood I’d pen my final story.


I’m constricted To these self-inflicted Restrictions, I say I’m writing romance, But I really love science-fiction. I guess I’m chasing paychecks, Or the dream thereof, And I’m worried if I trust my heart, will I make the right decision?