These are pieces I've done some editing on. They should be further up on the food chain than most of the stuff around here, but still in progress.
Little poems are often posted to my journal, with the tag poem.
The Priest's grey nimbus in a niche where he dressed discreetly.
I will not sleep here tonight. Home also I cannot go.
A voice, sweetened and sustained, called to him from the sea.
Turning the curve he waved his hand. A sleek brown head, a seal's, far
out on the water, round. Usurper.
-- James Joyce, "Ulysses"
This page was last modified on 2011 December 20.