Other Writing
My history of sleeping in the middle of the day becomes replaced by writing.
I wasn't destined to be a scientist. But this did not stifle my evil plans.
About the same time Jackson Pollock was throwing his body around horizontal canvas, I was turning my world forest green.
An almost completely unrecognizable homage to William Butler Yeats' "The Song of the Wandering Aengus".
Animal magnetism at it's worst.
Written Works in Progress, including books and print projects
A cautionary tale of young love, domestic skills, responsibility, and dog care.
The type of marks imaginary civilizations or lost worlds may leave behind, enigmatic and indecipherable.
Dad thought he owned the African Queen. She, in fact, owned him
