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| The dead leaves stirred in the chill of the fall wind. |
Something Wicked This Way Comes
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There’s blood on these hands And death in the air I’ve been gone for so long That I can’t recall Where it was I came from O, but I ha...
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The room fills with bugs As I struggle to write by lamplight Summer’s heat can drive one to kill Or at least mortally wound I th...
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The monolith stood before us. It's sudden and unexpected appearance in the woodland clearing, more than a little disconcerting. -
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My new poetry and prose collection, Southpaw Nights , is out now in paperback and for Kindle via Amazon. Published by James Ward Kirk F... -
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Praise for Benjamin Blake and Standing on the Threshold of Madness ... "I was most impressed with Standing on the Threshold...
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