Dirty sock – hanginglifeless from the hamper rail,redolent of touch footballon the lawn,or perhaps the lazinessof an 11 year old boy,scrabbling in the emptyrecess of the second drawer. Greasy dishes – strewnlike the victims of a trainwreck,no survivors,just the odd fry stuck spearlikein congealed Heinz,that called too soft for 911,now
Author: Mark
Words Worth
Ceraunophile
Feel the electric, ions charged,swooping down, bending trees,whole,it roars in my ears. I stand, feet planted,and wait for the tiger,to lick my face,in the dark. Hands touch, silent static,burning, unspoken heat,shadowed dark in the light,that flashes. Feel the electric ozone passion,chest hairs on end, breathing deep,I can feel the shingles,between
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Psithurism
Who doesn’t love the gentle sound of wind in the trees or the rustling of leaves? I grew up on an Island, in what is known as a temperate rainforest. My house nestled in a clearing directly above high tide with the expanse of Douglas Firs and Western Red Cedars
Art
Cloudy Day on The River
We finally had the chance to launch the new Pelican kayak so while my wife was zooming up and down the river Sam and I did a bit of sketching. Kind of a cloudy day with flat light but this is just a quick sketch anyway. Still trying to get
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Cynophilist
There are pet people and non-pet people in this world, and there are those who have pets who shouldn’t. I have a neighbour with a lovely dog that seems to spend a lot of time on the back porch – rain or blazing sun, just looking through the sliding door