He handed me a book saying, ever read Bukowski? Didn't like him then; less so, now. This was not the right answer. So, you think you write better? Better? Comparing breakfast to dinner.
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This Song of Sparrows.
Unopened, dun letters envelop the floor. Sheaf leaflets, none read; too many to mention... But her hand, delivered today to my door - penned, posted, scented - receives full attention. Her lines bring pleasure to me, and I glean nuance from her Wish You Were Here missives. News from her mill and river, hills of … Continue reading This Song of Sparrows.
The Glam Coral.
He had made only cursory plans to steal the largest ruby in the world - and, perhaps inevitably, he was caught before he was even deemed red-handed. He served at her pleasure and was released shy of his fifty-third. He then tried again. On his return to the top floor of the high tower where … Continue reading The Glam Coral.


