Winding and twisting, this sinewy labyrinth listlessly folds in on itself, a maze-like bud that opens fearfully to the footfalls of man,...

A maze mouths a non-linear A to B, a linguistic start To end but a labyrinth spirals inward ad infinitum In effect unicursal as a whorl...

All my paths have led to Knossos: to this site, this stretch of soil. With trowel and brush I sculpt the palace, a labyrinth of toil, the...

Guernica The village's been here, here where we're standing by the Urdaibai estuary inscribed in the sand of skulls Octavio Vázquez's...

Thunderclouds Wear a Cloak Thunderclouds can follow people indoors invisible to all but the person they follow Even Crows The crow caws...

Across the Crops here comes sunday brunch and i romanticize the whole thing stretching it like bubble gum out of my mouth and around my...

I see evidence of a master builder in your bed of cypress branches, your pillow of interlaced swan feathers. Sorrow has not hindered your...

You can walk in a line and still be lost. This is the lesson you are here to learn. Caught in a widdendream you cannot leave, hoof...

You were innocent, wanting fire for livelihood. Licked you charred, didn't it feel liquor-sweet, the waste it made? You're paying for it...

the scream is the voice gone raw and can only be from the Minotaur William John Wither is a speculative fiction writer living in...

My mother spoke a dark language in secret. Her syllables wove my first memories. Just as my mother died, she whispered her last words...

the walls are to be thirty cubits high for three hundred cubits of length fifty the width—the animal inside half bull bull of a man born...

(Aegeus' Lament—as performed by the ghost of Peter O’Toole) Do not loosen the bulging mouth of the wineskin until you have reached the...

1. Dreams deep enough have an infinite echo, as if the time within them borrows from other lives, or that the forgotten worlds between...

I am with her and beside her and away from myself. Like Victoria Beach sand, the diner is loosely packed. Through the glass, I see...

A winter highway in Saskatchewan (like some scene out of Fargo) A car in the ditch He opens the trunk and sees himself dead A...

(text version of image 2) I have dreamt of the same room for the past seven days it is a room that you know; a room stitched...

dreams are the brain's garbage and what I'm doing here is tantamount to sorting my trash before it rides a pneumatic wagon to a farm...

Every time you appear on the back of my lids, we're wearing matching black turtlenecks. This is how my resetting brain creates...

Last night dreams presented themselves As ZOOM sessions before becoming Dreams. In one I am at a large group Musical performance in a...