Feste's Lute

Scribbles & Sketches of the Unspeakable

I worry sometimes that anyone I correspond with online will picture me with my tongue out all the time like this: :p

I apologize. It’s just that it’s the only emoticon that accurately describes my disposition…

My cup clacked
as your thoughts
hit the table.
We never got to
our drinks.


All are given
all four shriven
driven to the
parapet in droves.

Broken cloth, rags
wrap us in our error,
past the terror
of trying.

We’re relying
on star-hulled boats
to raise us from
this void.