bit of a cross-over from scrytch to reality, trying to head off someone making inappropriate splashes on the list. done in rhyme, a nod to the list itself.

scrytched piece on the name and nature of loki, from the perspective of Glut, modernized, of course.

thoughts about life, death, and scrytch… given in reply to someone bemoaning that everything they care about dies.

a whimsical look at the mailing list…

it’s nice to have something expected to be a serious pothole turn out only to be a small bump.

i know nothing. i feel everything. i trust and distrust like the last acrid pops of an old florescent tube. flicker. flicker. flicker. pop. silence.

small free-verse item that leapt to mind while considering recent changes, returning prodigals, and the nature of ‘knowing the future’.

writing briefly from work… and only because it’s either take the time to do so or pop.

well. an auspicious start to the day. the truck is dead.

three words: sumatran black satin.