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Pressing

Wanting ways to measure the broken pulses of her junkyard mind is as fitful as walking on needles Where sleep ends her terror will begin for she is a...

A Grammar Problem

Syntactically confusing poem about the confusing nature of grammar and syntax.

Darker Times

Poem from a dark place which reading reminds me how far I have come from there.

Journey to Nowhere

An Amsterdam journalist in mid-life crisis finds meaning in becoming a street artiste, performing with hand-carved marionettes in 14 countries. This adventure story ends in a dramatic rescue of his marionettes from Spanish customs at Gibraltar. The full story is on www.magicmirror.nl . Click on "Journey to Nowhere" - the novel. What appears below is all that will fit on this site.

L journal entry 7/27

I feel a little depressed today. But I also feel a certain serenity. The object of yoga is to eliminate excitement from the system. When I do this...

Lorry loads.

cattle, Not really

Phantera's mirror

(I) Look better in windows, Walking down the street, Look better in pub windows, When I'm waiting to compete, Look better, Distorted, in shining...
Cherry

Orange

Summer in the garden; building a rockery.

His and Hers

HIS AND HERS. sneak Him. Pupils overwhelmed, preparing to dilate. Its hard bestowing compliments - on those who radiate. I have fallen once too often...
Cherry

by the window

poem

Still life

Stuck in an office, somewhere, by a window, five floors up.

Perfect...

for GOODNESS sake...

F journal 7/26

Dear journal, It's a hard life. I've been trying to be successful but sometimes I just don't have the weaponry. Today, I organized my finances. They'...

WINGS

a little quirky?

The Watchers

He walked further than most, yet never felt the need to sleep much. Nights would often be spent walking as far as he dared in the dark, before...

Old Covered Bridge

Timmy had a fear the old covered bridge ...

A: journal 7/25

Dear Journal, This has been an odd weekend and that's putting it lightly. On Thursday afternoon, my Mom and I drove to Portland. My Mom had me drive...

Paradoxes

Thoughts on infidelity

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