Read

iE when i’m electric separated from time on my own little moon weightless in a glitter milky way of a thousand thousand laser lights and nothing else...

The Streets Of Evergreen by Paul McCann All we've known and all we've seen can sometimes seem just like a dream , on the streets of evergreen Where...

In their notes, the more scholarly Kindred Eyes had already thrown down a gush of ways to describe what the Rinsed Face exercise meant, according to...

'Grumpy Old Men'

Aside from the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune and the black swan of catastrophic non-linearity, the quality of our lives is dependent upon...

An art critic struggles to tell an artist her painting is not a good as she thinks...

WARNING! There is one instance of adult language in this piece (due to my lack of tolerance with artificial intelligence) . Did I say even the longest journey begins with the smallest step? I was wrong. The second step can be even smaller. My unrelenting Tiger Mother ukulele bends my fingers back until I squeal and insists on perfection.

Bruised in black and blue, homeward bound. Hello sailor, greatest navigator, independence personified. True high-flier, north to south returning,...