Tomatography
Chromatography is a laboratory technique for the separation of a mixture into its components. Tomatography Have you ever wanted to...
Chromatography is a laboratory technique for the separation of a mixture into its components. Tomatography Have you ever wanted to...
A poem for the sweetest Uncle a man can wish for....David sadly passed away this week xx David thank you God for David this gentle man...
We grate the skin of oranges and pull the teeth out of boredom’s yawn give our radar-ears new juices We boil the rinds in round, glass...
There was a time when Achilles tried to kill my son. However, the plan was doomed because my son’s skin was magically protected against...
Light rain fell on us from clouds that were not thought of as we walked and talked. Choosing white or gold or both was our game. The...
Agape Review kindly published this new poem (see here: https://agapereview.com/2021/12/22/thenightingalesflute/) In honour of Annette von...
Here's a poem I wrote that uses two verses comprised of exactly the same letters in the same order: Plantagenet, I call you the ardent...
I wrote a review of Adam Horovitz’ excellent new book: https://tearsinthefence.com/blog/?fbclid=IwAR2tebJUAfA_K5iTxiEamjL7K4oYFxsvZKQRJ2i...
Neon lights tell me there is an empire. It is not Incan or the Ottoman. Lines of vision whet a crop of lightness. Marble planets spin in...
It has been a while but here is the next part of my long science/faith poem: A supernatural presence pulses. It impinges on science and...
Evolution / or Creation. Mesozoic age. / Noah’s ark. The lights go off. / The lights turn on. Peace and truth descend like daybreak.
(a vision in the 1980s in a laboratory) Chlorine: I can be your friend that cleans. My bleach removes waste. Me: Can you...
Nintendo added (1981-83) Nintendo added to my life. The Game and watch product line lit candles in pre-teen elbow rooms. Fire attack:...
Your soul trades in peacetime coins in rural comfort blankets. Your stomach feels the touches of trees made in Georgian times to line...
A Fibonacci poem: I want to be eleven again Calm. Deaf to risk. Cycling fast down huge gradients and keeping the wheels on the road.