The moon had traveled across the dark canvas of the sky,
Bursting plump and round as a pale white peach,
Pitted and waning to a sodden, softening half,
Slumping to a circlet that slouched on its backside,
Shrinking further still to the tiniest, driest sliver,
Until it finally
Winked out into nothing at all.
“I don’t understand what you want from me.” Trevor was mystified. Heather was leaving him. Again. Continue reading
Elbows on bent knees,
Hands dangle between, wings on a gentle-breezed bird.
Butt planted, chilly on Autumnal Earth.
Grass spent, golden and crackling
Under a sky sharp as blue porcelain.
Leaves flicker down from balding trees,
The memories still, cut deep.
At his age, you’d expect a lot less.
At his age, you’d expect his eyes to grow wide
His mouth to open in shock,
His shoulders to rise and curl around himself in protection. Continue reading
Lori always had the right answer.
Mavis counted on it: No decision, no responsibility.
Mavis lifted a brow. “Do we let ‘em in the boat?” Continue reading
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poetry, fiction, art, books, retro
A dose of fetish. Good friends. An incomparable muse.
It's All True, None of It's True. Don't Ask.
Words of a clarklike female
A writing blog by H.R.R. Gorman
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