What’s brought to the table

The note said: Come to Ferny Forest under boughs of night. Follow Coyote’s howl, for he will lead you true. Come to our long table. Your place is set, and blood will let. Nick a vein, mind the pain. Words of spell we’ll speak. Obscenities we’ll leak. And all, by morn, Medusa’s stone.


no tell motel

I used to think it was figurative when people would say “sparks flew between them”. But, for a long time now, I’ve known that the Old Wives were right. And oh I have such a story that I may never tell, and, as people would say, “God only knows”.



Funny, how it comes. Boots in the snow by the mailbox. A pause, and a seeing. You know who your friends are, and they’re not who you thought. Seems you’re in the change of life, my friend. High fives are in order. No longer are they birds in a guilted cage.