Sleep is innocent. It runs, hides in the dark, is easily frightened by radiators, the drop of a digital clock. I have ac...

There must be something other than ringtones. I need freedom with a heavy clapper. The steeple in my road is silent. You show...

An hour ago, I was a child of fables, pokeweed. A tongue roller, chewer of grass ― I could graft an oak from a twig. Me...

Progression of days playing in a constant loop, a marriage of minds. The loop is safe; just what we take, walking all that is...

Each of your days is composed in equal measures. You breathe, eat, sleep, a musical score; bars of hours, notations of moments. ...

R.A.D. Stainforth ...in living color... There is a place, galactic and unforeseen, removed from space, like a tickin...

Somewhere along the line, the big zero of time was twisted at the waist, to become an eight. An hourglass of days, slippi...