I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
What, no small talk? So impatient. You're all in such a hurry. Do you know where you are in a hurry to get? I mean, not just the proximal goal, but the distal, ultimate goal. Would you be in such a hurry, if you kept that in mind?
By D. J. Reddall6 months ago in Fiction
Summer has thawed your quaint anxieties Puritanical shyness melts quickly Ancient are some carnal realities Touched by water and light, who is sickly?
By D. J. Reddall6 months ago in Poets
When did the worst case Scenario become what We watch over lunch?
All of our stories Will gradually dissolve How will they change taste?
Leaving glows with magnetic temptation The immaterial must pay no rent Unknown to them is mean competition They earn nothing, for they are truly spent
It is dangerous to speak your names The Overton window slams to silence them Crisis, solidarity, insanity Adorning an ancient necropolis
The inky window watches our passion Move repressed Edwardians to clutch pearls This sleepy, arching domestic fusion The pale toes of anxious puritans curls
You don’t understand: anyone can fly My story is clear, but few read it well It’s true: I did burn, plummet and die
My father always said that he was nothing. "I'm nothing more than a hunter, lad. No other mortal feeds me. The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want. Most do not read with care, do they, lad?"
Hades, god of the dead, himself alive Yearned for Persephone's tender embrace Her mother, Demeter, made green crops thrive
No seafoam clings to your hardwired form You seem forged from cold code, not briny waves To no ancient, sung rites do you conform
We treat doctors like Idiots and idiots As if they're doctors
