Yule Returns

Is an absence really an absence if no one is there to notice it? Or, years go by quickly now that we’re old. I shake the rust from my eyes, my voice still unable to speak, and wave a creaky hello. I am ready, I think, to once again scrape these virtual walls with words no one will read.

And so we start with Christmas. Since ’tis the season in which it is better to give than to receive, I am giving you seasonal things you’ve never even asked for. Such as the gift of song, for one. I recorded a rendition of God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen back in time for Christmas of 2012 and, like lackadaisical clockwork, have re-uploaded it to my Soundcloud page each year, starting sometime in Advent and then to be taken down after the Feast of the Epiphany. Listen now, if you’d like, for a limited time.

And if that’s not enough, I am also posting a Christmas story I recently wrote for a flash fiction contest. It did not win. So, rather than being published in a prestigious literary magazine, it gets published on my personal site. Fa la la la la.

Before The Pines

Lamii ran from the housing complex to the pine tree forest on the outskirts of the village. He knew that a band of elves was rushing to the hanger with the hope of moving the sleighs to safety, if it wasn’t already too late. He also knew that even more elves were racing to the workshop in order to salvage whatever tools and supplies they could in order to make whatever weapons they could as quickly as possible. It was December 23rd. Most of the supplies they would’ve had were already turned into the toys which were weighing down the fully loaded Great Sleigh. In the chaos of evacuating the elf apartments, Lamii made the snap decision to run in the other direction.

Planes roared. Bombs dropped. Santa’s house and the main reindeer barn both blazed in terrifying flames. Lamii looked over his shoulder and saw paratroopers gliding down from the sky. He lowered his head and ran toward the pine trees, which seemed further away than ever.

The elves needed all the help they could, but Lamii was sure it was a suicide mission. There’d long been rumors of a war on Christmas, but that old fool Santa laughed them off and refused to prepare. The trees were getting closer. He knew he’d eventually need an excuse to explain his actions to the others. He was sure he could think of one. He just hoped he’d get the chance to use it.


New pages have been added since you may have last bothered to stop by. Feel free to explore. More changes are in store for here as soon as I figure out what they are.

Magnificent Desolation

Hey old man
Entertain me will you
Because I’m falling asleep
I’m drowning in these feathers
Outside the sky is blue
The sun’s still shining loudly
It stings my eyes
Until it leaves me blinded
In this bed
It’s where I sleep all day and night
Under this bed
It’s where the monsters hide
If you can see me breathing
Then you’ve come much too close
I’m tired of all this dreaming
It must soon be my time to go
There’s always somewhere where we belong
I can’t believe in heaven
Unless I have proof it’s real
I’m just the same as you
I guess that’s how I feel

A pausing point

Silence is not deafening. It just sounds that way.

I am rethinking the focus of this site and will be back soon.

A Revisitation

Walk along Quarrier Street now and notice everything that’s changed. New businesses open, old businesses close, and others are able to keep going for now. But everything dies someday. Remember Ether Kim’s? That’s gone now. I’m not surprised, but I’m still a little sad anyway. For the moment, I’ll allow myself to be overcome with nostalgia — nostalgia makes for a funny transfer of emotions. I don’t really care for Ether Kim’s, per se. I don’t miss that actual place. I just really miss that person who spent so much of my life at Ether Kim’s.

Revisiting the skeleton

That the rooms are smaller than we remember doesn’t matter, because the house is bigger now that it’s empty. We try to fill it with memories, but they get mixed with mythologies and wishes until we’re left with an encounter that never really happened inside a skeleton that’s so very real and familiar. I try to remember how I felt then — I used to rage with passion… or is that just another legend? That boy has long been put to bed under a blanket of dust and, even if I could wake him up, I doubt he’s capable of speaking anymore. A time of life that’s been distilled into an envelope of photographs shoved into the drawer and left to modern day interpretation.

Penelope In An Envelope

Penelope in an envelope
Ready to go anywhere
A lick and a penny stamp could send her
Stuffed into the mail slot
Her eyes shut tight so anxiously
And on the front it’s written
“Please anywhere worth being”
The return address was blankness
And the addressee is the unknown
Hopefully she tumbled in the darkness
As she spun around she said a prayer
Which sounded like a plea
And waited quietly to be delivered

The River

I went to the river
I walked there with Jesus
They called me a sinner
I went down down down
A prayer to deliver
A moment of rapture
A drink from the river
Then you drown drown drown
A bath tub of wishes
When everything’s missing
The promise of cleansing
Keeps us around round round
Lord can you hear me
From the banks of this river
I’ve been screaming a lifetime
Without a sound sound sound
So I’ll wait by the river
I’ll wait here for Jesus
Surrounded by sinners
I just want to drown drown drown


Flutter by girl
Butterfly girl
Leave me alone again
You twist in your skin that you left by the door
I clutch the beginning
It’s all that I’ll ever have
I can hug all the pieces
But they no longer fit
So it doesn’t make sense to even be here at all
You fly away from this mess that you made
The past has a name that’s now unpronounceable
A thousand flaps from your wings
Cause a wind to rush through my heart
And blow me off course again
Until I wake without landing
On the floor like I planned it
With sketches of then again
And the cold hope of home again
As you flutter flutter flutter away

Burnt Offering

Shimmering chimney
Too many dreams
Burned up in the home
And fed to the sky
Like a sacrifice to God
For our well being
We watch the smoke rise
It’s always black smoke
Always a stalemate
Never a pope


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