I WALK DOWN THIS LONELY ROAD I WALK THIS ROAD ALONE I WALK THIS ROAD WITH A BROKEN HEART FAR SHE LEFT ME, FAR SHE…
Sweet as honey Candy dipped Smile on my face As big as the all outdoors Talking Talking Talking Excitement at a…
To steal ideas from one person is plagiarism To steal from many is research…
Rain again'', she thought and sighed. Lazily she traced her finger over the window glass, drawing his name.…
You asked me what my feelings were, I was silent. Here is what was in my head.. Caution Care Comfort Not…
You are the solid Wolf In the mists and fog of the Forests Where I reign. I hear your song echo and throb off the…
(The structure of this book is inspired by David Mitchell's own Cloud Atlas. After a lot of thought, I think I'm…
Naked, I spy you there. Lying across the bed. So enticing Alluring Embodiment of Feminine. I trail fingers slowly…
Since the age of 4, Clinging to Dads t-shirt in terror. Knowing I'm safe all the while. Standing in the garage,…
Donny was a good bowler, and a good
man. He was. . . He was one of us.
He was a man who loved the outdoors,
and bowling, and as a surfer explored
the beaches of southern California
from Redondo to Calabassos. And he
was an avid bowler. And a good
friend. He died--he died as so many
of his generation, before his time.
In your wisdom you took him, Lord.
As you took so many bright flowering
young men, at Khe San and Lan Doc
and Hill 364. These young men gave
their lives. And Donny too. Donny
who. . . who loved bowling.
And so, Theodore Donald Karabotsos,
in accordance with what we think
your dying wishes might well have
been, we commit your mortal remains
to the bosom of the Pacific Ocean,
which you loved so well.
Goodnight, sweet prince.