I love fucked-up people
My daughter
Deities, what enchantment have we conjured
More
In the dance of glances, their eyes intertwine,
VOID
Spunkrat and Night Owl are on IRC (Internet Relay Chat). Circa 1997.
Pomodori Pelati
Flying though the darkness Soaring upon a wicked drunkenness She throws herself upon the bench Amongst the dinner’s midnight stench
The Return
“How long has it been?” “Just over a year” “I can’t believe you’re here” “Neither can I…”
Remember Eliza?
Guess who’s back? She’s back, and we’re locking lips in the damn kitchen.
Jemini Jive
The chaos of the party was as bewildering as a flock of sheep performing a synchronized dance number.
Night Owl
She flies silently
Why a rainbow?
Sodit was a negative person. Not that he was unhappy, mind you, because Sodit didn’t know any better.
Her eyes are a deep sea green
She preferred to make love under strobe lights
The Fez
I open the gate at a quarter to the hour. She could turn up early. Halfway up the path, I glance backwards over my shoulder. No sign yet.
I met a girl
I met a girl In a sunflower skirt
Whirlpool
In the belly of the maelstrom, I’m caught in a psychedelic dance of swirling lights, liquid shapes, and a cacophony that could drown out the devil himself.
Ponsonby Road
Ponsonby Road in 1974 was a strange and dangerous place – if you were a biker kid.
Night of the possum hunters
They called it the “Wild West Coast”. Wild beaches, wild weather, wild people.