this journal, and go check out each artist's gallery, to support our amazing community 
Apple WorldYears ago, we were giants – or so it seemed to me and my twin brother Jimmy – and we lived in a world of magical insects, fairies and various small creatures, who often seemed in awe of our presence. This world was known to others, who lived indoors and called themselves our parents, as a back garden. But then our parents appeared odd to us at that time, as they firmly refused to believe in magic of any kind. We didn’t even get the tooth fairy stuff or Santa Claus beliefs from them.
Perhaps, in retrospect we compensated for this.
The back garden was Wonder World and we strode the land, with mighty footsteps aided by our ten league boots that had been given to us by a wizard – known to our parents as Uncle Barney. We spoke to insects and fairies and every one of them had a tale to tell. We learnt a lot. In fact we knew it all then, to the extent that we rebelled at the thought of starting school and informed our parents that we had more knowledge than both of the
on bradbury and table dancingYou are not a wordsmith
whatever you might like to think. ('Smith'
indicates precision and coldness and fire:
words are softer than that unless you mold them strong.)
It's a difficult road to follow, and not many
make it past the fork. Choose a path,
Janus says, whirligig keys spinning on his shoulders:
I am a wordworker, with my tools too crude, forming
rough-edged carvings painted with pretty imagery.
Notebooks scattered across the landscape
of a child's room, to be stumbled across,
read, red-penned, in the thick and choking breath of night.
When the bough breaks
a hanged man laughs. He carries typewriters
in his pockets, and cigarettes in the soles of his shoes.
I will never be a word mistress,
whoring myself to the speech of people I do not know and will never know me.
The oven is set to Fahrenheit 452, but the words were already aflame
before they ever took shape under your tongue.
You love everything they've ever written, and carry
unabashed loathing for every syllabl
I'm MovingI'm going to live online.
Seduced to sleep
By strategizing baritones
Working their newest MMO.
Can I live online?
I've got a supportive community,
I promise.
People care about me there.
They listen, and they trust me.
My address can be an IP
I can even get laid that way
Within my domain
Where I can control my environment
And I never have to leave my bed.
The glorious thing
About living online?
I can disconnect from reality
And, be warned,
All real-world problems
Are sent straight to spam.
