Multiplicity
Subject line: “I think my inner child has colleagues.”
“If Humans Mated Like Trees”
No swipes, no candlelight, just wind and timing—romance reduced to favorable pollen drift.
The Blooming Room
First it was a root—thin, black, trembling in the floorboard seam. Then a bloom, silver-lipped, breathing my name. I sat still as it spread. Through books. Through walls. Through time. Every flower opened something sealed inside me. Every vine curled tighter around my solitude.
The Just Ride Out
In case of spontaneous ball lightning, initiate denial, preferably quiet—never viral.
I’m a Centipede, Baby!
Like in Ion, when Socrates says, we’re links in a chain, tugged by the divine.
A Hidden War for the Human Mind
This war on the soul—through the calculated fragmentation of the human being—is what makes Lindsay Clarke’s The Chymical Wedding feel less like fiction and more like revelation.
Exploding Chickens
At first, the others admired him. He was radiant, wise-seeming, touched by some divine hand—or so it seemed.
Sunlight
So, what does it feel like to fall in love with something in your mind?
Living in Someone Else’s House
A metaphysical reading of Leave The World Behind.
We, the Zombies
Geez—shouldn’t we have had disclosure by now?
On Choosing Safety Instead of the Beloved
A failure not simply of love, but of knowing.
What It Means to Be—or to Become
This “becoming” is a process of change. It requires something added, something that moves us: an idea.
Hello, Yellow Brick Road
A lyrical reply to Elton John.
Cumulonimbus
A poem on clouds in stormy San Francisco weather.
Giants Among Us
Can one escape oppression by appealing to a higher power if that higher power is itself governed by survival?