Dragon ships rail the edge of the world. I have seen them on my knees in the cold sand as the tide rushed in, the tips of Atlantis rising up red and gold behind concave sails. I was not fit to sail with them, as I am unfit to carry water to the Blacksmith.  Odin's crows refuse me for carrion, and no hero would foul his blade with my misfortune.

But one day the Blacksmith will cease his tempering, put down his hammer and sleep. Then I shall fold me into mighty dreams, and he will see…

At the mega-mall food court, two women sat in wire chairs and waited for their daughters to return; one was watching the people and thinking things, and the other raised a big batch of violets in FarmVille.  Loreen came around the corner first and her mother admired the girl striding towards her, growing tall, hair flowing, taking her father's brown eyes and she was smiling--rare for a kid, she knew.  Erica came around the corner like Emperor Palpatine, head buried deep in a black Hollister…

...and the sky shook, the earth rumbled, lightning flashed and sunlight hid its face from the dread sight of Christmas Eve Mother coming down from Mount Doom.

"Slaves," she bellowed, "where are my Christmas slaves--bring them to me!" She cracked the whip of doom high overhead, careening down the mount in a fire-breathing Christmas Eve Locomobile, black and silver and mad without brakes.

"Slaves--bring your mops and vacuums, fill the larders, Cinderella on your knees and…

the cold sun heaved itself slowly up from behind the rock wall, and the only witness was the cat sitting coolly on the windowsill waiting. waiting as she always did, knowing they would come and praying to sehkmet for the strength to break through windows and vanquish the feathered armies.  the cacophony would come later when their tribes gathered to feast, but it was early yet and the only two present were the kings of their kind--squirrel and finch.

but it was the sharks and…

Three men who wander long with mindful destiny came into a man’s bedchamber to watch him dream upon starched white sheets, sheltered behind mahogany doors and daydreaming guards.  They wander long but not aimlessly, and their souls have wings like the wings on their feet that have the strength of 100 men to march 1000 years. Standing silent in the darkness they listened for the echo of his soul because they could not find it in his words or deeds, then they searched his dreams. His dreams…

Jack says to Mom in the kitchen, "I saw this ad in Popular Mechanics and I was wondering what Viagra is for?"

Mom goes to Mike in the computer room, "So, Mike, what specifically would you like me to tell him other than the truth?"

Mom goes back to Jack in the kitchen, "It's for older men who have trouble keeping an erection during sex, and this gives them a little boost."

"Oh my God, why would old men want to have sex, I thought that was just…

What do you get when you cross a dog with four parked vehicles in the middle of a wet, busy traffic weekend road outside my house, five women, one man, two kids and one really late police car?

You get a filthy, wet, exhausted, terrified poodle-hund crouching under the van refusing to come out but safe and sound and not run over by said traffic.

And you know the lady that started it all by stopping traffic when the lost dog ran under her van?  She's the nice…

ah, y'know... some people are determined to be sad this time of year. frankly, i say, why take this time to focus the mirror on things we can't change and burn it to a crisp now when we can do that all year long? it's easy to cave in to despair and depression, longing, misery now when it's cold and dark and we don't get the answer we want from the man upstairs. we'll probably never get the answer we want from the man upstairs, and that's just the mystery of it all...kind of like how we get…

who's bill lapham and what's all the fuss?

he got an mfa, just like the rest of us (cause it rhymes, so don't cuss)

sat in a boat and don't you dare misquote the man who

ran in marathons and now he's

a paragon of the written word?

why yes in fact, he is, and we like! : )

Dear Mr. Squirrel sitting on my handrail scarfing food meant for the birds, if you think for one moment I will show you mercy and not sic my dog on you, you are right, but I still can't stand the thought of you taking possession of all the bird food i toss onto the lawn, the sidewalk, and the bushes because YOU broke the birdfeeder. Oh...but you haven't heard the story of when I nearly beheaded a swan that tried to attack me and my boyfriend in a channel, low and narrow between two lakes…

He can ask a question without saying the exact words because sometimes he cares the ice is thin right there and treads with caution. He knows where my wounds are and sometimes chooses to ignore them, tactlessly gavelling the question home. But last night he asked the (unspoken) question and surprisingly I answered without feeling my back stiffen or the poison rise--my throat did not clench, tears did not spring. I simply…

it's weird when you can't see a spiral for a spiral, curving not-so-gracefully downward, and you pretend it's a straight line that will bend itself into a wedding ring.

it's strange that you got upset when he lit a candle that dripped wax on one of your favorite books, and he couldn't understand why it bothered you so much.

it's sad that you couldn't have a conversation about the money he gave to his best friend to buy an engagement ring, but he wouldn't front the money for…

"Now? Artie, are you kidding me? Look at me, I'm a mess, and I wouldn't be if you got your fat ass off the couch and did some yardwork once in a while!"

"Selma, shut up and get in here--I got a love stick with your name on it, and it ain't gonna wait all day," he grinned, anticipating her Royal Sagginess and all her wet goodies.

Artie and Selma clinched on the porch and tumbled into the hallway, kicking the door shut with their toes and Artie didn't care where…

My heart beats, chest expands, and tears fall autonomically. Strange that something inside me registers supreme joy and abysmal sadness in the same key, and I suppose it will always be so, until. So for now, whenever I hear Remember by Transiberian Orchestra, or O Holy Night, Feed The Birds, Für Elise, The Unforgiven, November Rain, or school children practicing their songs, my throat will harden, hot tears will fall, and I'll turn my face in the dark and hope no one asks me what's wrong. ET…

You hear it? Oh yeah, we’re talking about you, and we know you can feel the vibe all the way over there at your job, the bowling alley, in the garage and your man caves. The vibe wafts through the air and you try to ignore it, like a kid ignoring the urge to pee for two hours because they’re havin’ too much fun, but you know it’s coming for you. You’ll brick wall into the crossed-arm stare, feel the cold in the air, and wonder (for a minute) what was that all about,…

I’m sifting through paper files to cross check a 500 line list that was found to have incorrect data (garbage in/garbage out), and as I flip through 12-inch thick piles of paper piece by piece my stomach clenches and teeth grind when I see May March August November April. Fleetingly, hopelessly, I wonder why I care the computer is wrong and records are misfiled, so I take a few cleansing breaths and get back to my given task (flip flip flip shuffle clunk.) Deep down in my…