The Last Brew

TIME FOR one last cup. I still dream of coffee. I still dream of dipping my fingers in eddies of swirling froth and suffer the distant warmth fading with the passing of time. I still jump out of bed with a start, disoriented, roused by a whistling kettle that’s never there, struggling with tangled sheets, hoping to catch a…

First Light

“It is even quieter at dawn. I sit out back and I write stuff, like stories. That’s easy.  I don’t know, it’s like at that time of the day, because everyone’s still asleep, all the best thoughts haven’t been taken yet.” – House at the End of the Street

For Loss of Words (Sit Beside Me Still)

For Loss of Words (Sit Beside Me Still) — “The Caffeine Chronicles” Number 4. This is my portrait of you. It speaks to me in strange, colored verses, in whispered codes of ancient languages. I often get that illusion.  You are not easy to ignore. I’ve long studied its dog-eared corners, one by one, pressed…