Snippets is my name for all the little things I've written over the years, often with little context. They're not usually short stories or novels. They're the types of things you scratch out on a notepad when a feeling strikes you.

A Scottish Lament: A Short Story

short story 25 min read A Scottish Lament: A Short Story

“Boy,” barked the Captain, “do you smell it?”

“Aye, sir.”

“Tell me then. From which way does the wind blow?”

“’Tis as an easterly wind, sir.”

“Indeed it is. An easterly wind. Yet we’re dancing with serpents in the heart of the Atlantic, with thousands of miles of sea to bow and stern. What might I smell, if not the salty delicacies of Atlantis?”

The young lad of seventeen said nothing.

“Boy!” said the Captain, “I’ll take a blade to your cheeks and carve out a smile if you don’t soon part with the somber mood. Tell


snippets 2 min read Wilted

Life is a dance.

We step in varied rhythms. We swing, we glide, we dip, we fall.

We move from one dark corner of a crowded dance floor to the next. At times we lead. At times we are led.

Occasionally, we grow bold, and we waltz with a partner or tango with a muse. We elbow our way to the center of that dance floor. We shine beneath a chandelier. We bask in the light’s sparkling brilliance, moving in harmony, together as one, choosing a path, a future, a next step.

But the light is fleeting. The dance

A Lonely Duel

snippets 3 min read A Lonely Duel

They demanded confidence, and so there was confidence.  They demanded happiness, and so there was happiness.  They demanded ambition and kindness and wit, both of which were evident in every word he spoke, in every act he performed, in every nod to passersby and every smile to strangers who drifted through his days. They demanded laughter, and so he laughed. He told jokes, made clever observations, whispered wildly satirical commentary in the ears of intelligent ladies, and they laughed.  Day after day, night after night, strangers and friends alike, they demanded the world, and so he gave them the world.


snippets 1 min read Princesses

Are you listening? No. You're lost in a world of pinwheels and shiny sparkly recycled plastic toys. Daydreaming, nightdreaming, napdreaming. Sexdreaming? What a waste. You laugh at pain and whine at happiness. You have issues. Yes, issues. The mental, emotional, intellectual belching of bitchiness. I'd take you right here, but no, I can't listen to it. I won't feed it. You'll moan and you'll scream and you'll claw your way to orgasm, licking at lusty leisurely love, but this skinless bloody monster won't be welcomed to your castle, won't be smuggled through the trapdoor of your royal thoughts.

Distance, you'll

Tell Me

snippets 2 min read words on a chalkboard

When the river crests and the floodwaters birth the wet nasty muck of a shattered life, what thoughts keep you afloat? What angels keep you dreaming? What spirits propel your arms through the current and kick your legs against a dying will? Do not shout to me of a saving grace, of a god’s plan, of a savior’s compassion. Do not whisper to me the absurd promises of mythological fads or paint rosy pictures of impossibility. Tell me the truth. Tell me the pain. Tell me the ache of longing for empty tomorrows, the human suffering of isolation.

Pathways to Atlantis

snippets 1 min read A wintry view of a body of water - Taken by Kevin Koperski

I might dive into the sea to show you a treasure, to swim the wrecks of ancient man, to lavish you with golden coins or precious silver, rubies and emeralds and jade busts of elegance and mystery. If you would join me, hold my hand and hold your breath and come.

Watch the ages drift in the current, centuries like starfish relaxing in the sand. We dive deeper, longer. We see Viking masts in the North Atlantic and galleons of the Spanish treasure fleet hiding their fortunes in the Caribbean. We discover Phoenician ceramics in the port of Alexandria, Ottoman

Wayfaring Wishes

snippets 1 min read Wayfaring Wishes

Cities conquered in a bygone era taunt the explorers and adventurers determined to discover new frontiers. “Be off! Be gone! And fare thee well. Send greetings to the Eskimos and Indians, the Cowboys, too, whoever you encounter. Deliver our indifference to the nameless. Deliver our forgiveness to your sons. Be damned in your pursuits of infamy, unless in infamy our fortunes rise. Squander to the riverbeds your local riches, to the whores and taverns, too. Demand of Her the convenience of establishment, the comfort of safety, the luxury of routine, but expect nothing from Her. And remember, fondly, the windows

That Sunny Black Dress

snippets 3 min read

Let me see you in that black dress, legs crossed and hair tossed, sitting under a pink umbrella on a sun shiny summer evening. Let me smell the lotion on your skin, see the shimmer of your hair as you chat with the ladies and sip your sangria. Let me watch you. Let me dream. Let me imagine, for a moment, for a perfect moment, you are mine, and that backyard table is ours, and that sunshine behind the apple blossom beams on our house and our fairytales.

Let me imagine, for a moment longer, that mine is yours, that

Imprisoned By Angels

snippets 9 min read Imprisoned By Angels

If you pause to examine his surroundings, you’ll notice he stands in a prison. But prisons come in many shapes, many forms, and many minds, and we must allow that each of us, bringing to the table our own creative sensibilities, will paint a different image of the man and his world on the blank canvas before us. Because our histories differ, and because the quality and depth of our imaginations must vary, let us begin the story by adding several universal details to our many diverse constructions.

First, this is not a modern prison. No cold concrete. No

A Devil to our Divinity

snippets 1 min read A Devil to our Divinity

There are fires, my dear, in dark and lonely places. We rarely give them names. Yet they burn with the agonizing fury of Revelation, too hot for the gods to vanquish, too deep for the mind to calm. With anticipation they grow, and the flames send flesh into the sky, red embers like comets screaming toward heavenly bodies, soaring, streaking, foolish and fiery.

But expectation plays a devil to our divinity, and reality sees that comet crashing into our own uncultivated wastelands. Solitude then, after anticipation, burns with a much darker flame, until the ashes of a cooling universe blanket

A Call to Words

snippets 2 min read A Call to Words

We are the souls of damnation. We are the workers of magic. We are the demons and devils who seduce and entertain.

In times of longing, we call forth our minions, the words, the rhythms and rhymes of a world besieged by heartbreak, and we send them cascading across dampened cheeks to pilfer and ravage the infidels of sadness. Let our words ring in the hearts of children and dance in the minds of lovers, let them glide as the voices of minstrels to every lustful ear. We are the surveyors of the mind, the solicitors of affection, the charlatans


snippets 1 min read Drifting

Fly closer every day, oh desolate lands of loneliness, and discover in each corner of this fragmented, delusional wasteland, on each continent of this dreary world, a leathery, beaten, wilted chunk of unmended heart.

Whither does one go? Here, dancing among the weeds of confusion, gallivanting among the aches of uncertainty, whither does one go?

To once again traverse the evanescing realms of passion, to reconquer the driest deserts of hope, one must accept a few inherent perils and gain the intimate acquaintance of Love’s greatest foe: Pain. For indeed, Pain walks on Love’s coattails, fully aware that