On cresting a Sunday night hill
And there was the Moon, like a bilious balloon. She was sheeted in linens of heavenly loom. This ghostly attendant of summer entombed. This spirit ascendant, This prophet of doom.
Apparition
In the dark of your room Something cold from the tomb Awakes you with feelings of dread Seems to float and to hover Then pulls on your cover And sidles … Continue Reading Apparition
“It’s just Colin”
We had been looking for a place to rent near town because our landlord gave us notice to vacate. His kids wanted the house to live in. We’d never lived … Continue Reading “It’s just Colin”
