Dreaming Awake

I had to look twice, glancing out the kitchen window as the flutter of a mynah bird’s jet black wings jogged my vision into memory, the giant frond of a Queen Emma lily flung carelessly by a kicking wind, bent not broken into a shape resembling  the appendage of...

Of Death and Magic

Cracking through his crusty skin, the butterflies await therein; In trembling light, antennae perched in front, ahead, and primed to lurch; The quavered sense that life’s amiss somehow obscures the hours of bliss; the chores and drudge originate, perspective...