In My New England Home

By John Grey Damn. I’d have to really hate myself to believe she’s never coming back to me. Look in the mirror and throw up. Smash in my skull with a hammer. But I’m merely waiting here, as stoic as Zeno of Citium.   So she left without a word. And I find nothing to console myself… Continue reading In My New England Home

Her Husband’s On Another Tour Of The Middle East

By John Grey At least he has his fellow soldiers to complain to. What can she do? Write a letter to the pentagon? She met with one who truly believes that prayer will sabotage an enemy rifle, guide a boot to the left or right of a roadside bomb. She longed to throttle the stupid… Continue reading Her Husband’s On Another Tour Of The Middle East


By John Grey I use that horrible   coward’s word “interesting”  to describe your painting.  Bad move.  Now I have to find a way  to fire myself as art critic,  be hired on as lover.    To be honest,   the canvas looks like   an unholy mess   of blotches and streaks,  scrawl and scribble.  But that’s an… Continue reading Interesting

Ἄποφις II

The wreckage of the god-ship lies On Bakhu's shores for clever eyes With reforged fragments of the arc The architects, athwart the dark The Great Cat dead—Set is slain The Serpent twines about The Skein Holo crumbles—the pillars crack Warship moves—His demense to sack The Eater of Souls can never die But shackled shall eternal… Continue reading Ἄποφις II