the shed of electrofried

Past pale dawned stocking laughter, the family gathers once more on our bed.  Oranges and apples and chocolate-coins tumble and a little bab...

The radio plays on my journey through rime-frosted trees.  A heart beats in time to the wolverine heat, and do we believe in Father Christm...

Past cracking flags and the grey swell of a Thames morning.  We venture up some stairs in search.  Yet everyone has gone ... there is nothin...

Did we squirm and twist past flying text and the howl of winter-driven maelstrom? Did we??? Waking fierce to the night and crying out, i...