So we beat on…

Rows and rows of bookshelves. Simple, dark wood. Unpolished. Yellowed spines in each. Tropical dust motes bouncing around in the sunlight. Flecks from pages, the earth, skin and hair all intermingling. Hushed little corners. Dark but not damp. American books. English books. Satire. sf. Westerns. Thrillers. Best Sellers. Reference books. Each with a little paper … Continue reading So we beat on…

The Last Decade

To be honest, it started with my ears suffering from JLo tinnitus. I don’t remember how many times MTV played that studio-modulated voice, but it sure felt like there was no other song on the planet. And who can forget the tinny drone of Y2K. Through the books and films I had been exposed to, … Continue reading The Last Decade

A Racing Heart

I locked them up, In a corner of my heart After running up the stairs, That night. Told the Whispers That no longer could I live… With thier chains. Banished them, For I was Launcelot. But whispers are whispers. And sometimes they return Making me check the chinks Within and without. Then I think of … Continue reading A Racing Heart

The whispers of a river

“We can love completely without complete understanding.” American Literature has a certain quality no other writing in the English Language achieves. It has a certain reflectiveness which is often compeltely without self-conciousness, a certain simplicity of purpose towards the understanding of the human spirit: an uncluttered-ness. The Literature of the Isle is more nuanced, more … Continue reading The whispers of a river