On the Run

Have been forced to move to the woods. They are after me. am working from the library now and again, but I have toasgio'safsh egw8o;4augolllkiiiiiiikgttttxsxazv fvvm jkl

The Way into the Mountains

"Pieces of Eight, English pounds, Russian rubles, gems, jewelry,
who knows what else?"
"You really think that is up there?"
"I won't bet my life on it, but I will wager some of my time on it."
"Speaking of time, have you seen Cosmole lately?"

Rose Mosaic

There was an old mystery in these journals... Why not? If there was no time to hunt for treasure what was there time for? It didn't matter she'd find time, there was not that much going on in Crestone.

There was a Spring storm coming

out in the plains, where the new trees contoured the river miles away.

But here it would be snow, those Spring pellets that stung, and the last or Winter's rare lightning was heard; the the long roll of torn Heaven telling the size of those galleries. The the spent anatomy of the storm an even tatting of fleeting white, gone by Sunset.

Still waiting on Destiny

Spring is 19 days old and a birthday announces how much closer to my death day I am. The funny thing, even if you do it correctly you only get to celebrate your death day once.

We are inside an impenetrable bubble, until our fragility breaks and we give up our pink green shine and disappear in a few teardrops. In the brief exposure of lightning, you cannot read, only remember.