Posted on April 8th, 2008 by solocrow.
Categories: Fiction, Generic Blatherings, Images.


The long silence of sand and stone
Whispers into the dark belonging to the night birds.
Waves glint with inner timeless wisdom,
And a crown of cloud-frost haloes the moon.
Eternal spirals twist restlessly in forgotten shells.

Sea-phantom forms writhe into the pearled shell-depths;
Living stones, striving in the muck
Under the unblinking eye of a summer moon.
The delicacies hide from the sun and its hungry bird-maws –
A Strong rationale, the wisdom of the unseen.

The wild cries of birds,
And the singing, silent stones –
Yes, these things gather under moon and sun.

Sun and moon – locked forever in chase,
Never growing wise to the mortal strivings
Of stones turning to sand,
Of shells, empty and hollow,
Of the broken pinions of weary, frail birds.

Memories haunt the night, like the fragile birds –
Calling themselves together in moonlight,
Curling themselves into shell-spirals,
Piling their wisdoms together
Into little cairns of stone bravery in the surf.

Soon the stones become birds,
And the wisdoms rub smooth into moon-pearls, hidden in shells.



Posted on July 13th, 2007 by solocrow.
Categories: Fiction, Generic Blatherings.


She can hear the moths breathing feebly, struggling sluggishly against the glass of the kitchen windows. Perhaps she will find them later, lying like morose faeries in the dawn’s wet grass.

Once, she’d found the wing of a bluebird perfectly separated from its little azure body — undoubtedly the work of one of the many hopeful cats that continuously prowl around the kitchen courtyard. She’d gathered the immaculate wing into her apron; a secret prize she later hung with a piece of stolen butcher’s twine from the ceiling of her small and stony room.


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Pink Blues [a recently recovered document of collegiate idiocy and fraud]

Posted on June 12th, 2007 by solocrow.
Categories: Fiction, Generic Blatherings.


Whilst looking for an empty sketchbook to tote off to Iceland, I happened upon this essay I wrote in college for a course soporifically called “Creative Nonfiction Writing”. The hilarious part of this essay is that about 45% of it *is* actually fiction; I made up parts of it to complete the assignment [at the last minute of course]. Ha!

And yes, I’m still avoiding the onerous task of packing for this trip. :)




Posted on May 7th, 2007 by solocrow.
Categories: Fiction, Generic Blatherings.


… is coming soon.