Once, a long time ago, I lived in a house near the edge of the world. In the winter, when the air was still, I would lie awake at night and listen to the Ocean, to the waves. Relentless. Never-ending. In my mind, I could see them. They would turn and curl and fall forward
On my 16th birthday my brother gave me a copy of Jack Kerouac’s On the Road and it changed my life forever. Not really. It would be nice if it did if it worked that way. Like a movie, all cut and dry. Defined beginning, movement toward clear resolution, and satisfying ending. That would be
In the darkness, you were dreaming. Dreaming and that is all. You did not see what you thought you saw. You did not experience what you thought you thought was so real. There was not a shape, a shape in the darkness. There was nothing at all. You wake to the sound of drums; a
