Toss and turn.
Burn and churn.
Sores that never heal.
Little stuff that makes us feel,
the incubus is real.
Poetica: Memory lapse
What's the word I want? It's on the tip of my tongue – Synapse not firing! I keep thinking that garlic keeps z...
Poetica: Be curious, not suspicious!
Curiosity in the face of something strange opens a closed door. You, the Explorer, serve as guardian angel to...
Poetica: Activate your selfie
"The world is ours!", screams a fresh generation, "Give it back right now!" My apologies, but it is badly brok...