Ken e Bujold > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

Clocking off at first light, the nightwatchman Bids a gooday, howzit to the blurry eyed binmen Before heading home. He does not envy them. ..

When I was a child, I feared spoons More than tigers. In my imagination I could always outrun the appetent cat, Find an elephant to shi..

Sun soaked. Clay laved. Buoyed by the light of a diamond’s indefatigable verve -- I hear the boys of summer echoing through the en..

That twelve-stair descent, the unaired apprehension for the black hole my bucolic cousins claimed a portal to Mephistopheles’ dank..

"what I've been up to for the past month"

Half a foot, too short … the objection to the shearing direction ‘above the collar …’ overruled. My father&rsq..

At dusk, shadows reign. The sun like a spent gimp hobbling from the day’s fields across the pebbled taupe of an implacable shore n..

Calmed by the certainty only the living will leave us here, we linger a little longer, seek between their marbled rows some echo of an..

Make it new, and bring back the old that was left in its dust wield the pen chisel and paint what once seemed fresh wh..

A tomorrow once, now just another of the beat up old junkers on the blocks out back rusting away among the roses. A few parts, perhap..