My grandfather was a painter. Not the artistic kind. The industrial kind. The residential kind. He was also the child of Depression-era parents. I've been told, and it seems to be true from my experience of him, that people from that era did not let things go…
I think this is a poem But I don't know The thing about poetry is, I don't get it I want to write it, But I don't know the rules I can't tell you the difference between a haiku and a limerick,…
As I sit here in my office, my son is painting a Warhammer model at his desk behind me. He has borrowed a lamp from my desk which I recently bought at a garage sale over the summer for just $1. I bought it because I wanted to backlight my…
From: Steve Jobs, sjobs@apple.com To: Steve Jobs, sjobs@apple.com Date: Thursday, September 2, 2010 at 11:08PM I grow little of the food I eat, and of the little I do grow I did not breed or perfect the seeds. I do not make any of my…
A poetic adaptation of a conversation with a friend…
A picture is worth a 1000 words.…
I say I love you everyday. But in poetry I would say; You are the sound my heart makes when it beats. The vibration in my chest. The pulse in my veins. I see you. And I feel seen by you. I promise: * To respect and acknowledge you for the…
A short story about LSD…
