r-e-s-e-a-r-c-h: an anagram and a process

  Something lives in the corn, and the scarecrows are our last defense.  Whatever they might have told you, whatever stories you remember […]

Time passes on Sit in sadness, sit in squalor. The wind outside still blows, the sun in the sky still rises. You […]

The people around me are potheads.  Outside, Where harsh lines meet slated ones, Grass worn down by sneaker soles, Cement blocks meant […]