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The wall of water tore itself through our island. Screams and crying bruise the post-calamity air, I hope my cat is okay.

Not long ago there was a whore named Sue Who had to paint her toenails blue When told to do, by big boss Hugh She meekly responded: “anything for you.” So years they go by in grief, toil and strife And, poor sue she never became a house wife Though muddied still is that blood stained knife That stol...

It was when the rain came pouring up through the soil that I began to worry. The clouds in their cumulus froths shifted, from fluffed white pillows, to green and gold rifts in the sky. Blood pumped fiercely into my frontal lobe, the pounding thrusting itself upwards. When the fall began it was as if...

Saturated in silence.

Now that path is lined with hedges, and we are famous for our signature dish, Sorciere Noirci, avec de pigeon remplissant (Blackened Witch, with Pigeon Stuffing). You know, I didn't think the Beaujolais would pair well with this dish, but, it really brings out the subtle notes of dirty puddle water...

We have been down this path so many times
except where once there were bread crumbs
there now lies nothing but pigeon shit