1:14 preview of the introduction of the forthcoming track Mana Over Dawn.
(Excerpt from the novel Fiona’s Guardians by Dan Klefstad) “You count the money. I’ll count the blood.” Daniel pushes the open case of dollars toward Jesús who in turn opens a large cooler releasing a cloud of mist. The cooler is tied to a dolly. Daniel’s gloves lift blocks of dry ice, revealing pint bags labeled O negative, A negative, A positive, B positive, etc. All… Continue reading Elevens (2001)
The aristocratic coterie padded the twisting rain-slick cobblestones of Ersentwyer, nattering beneath gaudy paper parasols as disjointed crowds of performers, merchants, day laborers and vagrants moved about them like minnows round the smooth-hewn rocks of a rambunctious stream. "Now I've a proper clarity of thy fresh attire," Aldwyn Blythe declared, taking in Oeric Adair's onyx… Continue reading The Dauntless Rook (§.01)
In technological society, there have been few ideas more poisonous to the general uplift of Man than the notion that the fundamental materiality of existence is invariably devoid of meaning, when, indeed, precisely the opposite is the case. A popular view: (Naive) nihilism is the only possible outcome of a materialist, matterological or otherwise 'naturalistic'… Continue reading The Fallacy of the Void
They ran down the old railroad like children after the ringing of the last school bell, arms wide and smiles broad. The young man twined his arm about the woman's own, she a month his senior, skin milky neath the ambered summer light. In mirthful exuberance, they passed beside a long line of chainlink fencing,… Continue reading A Dedication To Rust
Author's note: The following text is a short chapter excerpt from my forthcoming novel, Tomb Of The Father. More chapter excerpts will be released in the coming weeks. The sky was dark as the carapace of the beetles which scurried hither and thither beneath the flinty, scattered boughs of the gnarled and dying trees as… Continue reading Tomb of the Father: Chapter One (Excerpt)
You'll see him at night, when the moon shines its beam Tall, gaunt, inviting, his face so serene Oh, he'll whisper so sweetly, kindly words shall inspire The fickle, black beating of hearts grim desire No eyes to his face, all the better to see The wretched behavings of those such as thee Burnoose's fell… Continue reading Dactyl’s Lullaby