B E Y O N D   ·   P L U M   ·   C R E E K

Life's a trip without an itinerary.

Words and images of a SHākē persona.

"My heart, a hand. My soul, a crayon."

Creative Peons I Have A Few       

Unfettered we dissolve into evil plots against ourselves.

Spinning inside the mind polishes the hurt.

Cuts rough, bites jagged, rubbed raw, spits diamonds.

Eyes and mind would wander estranged from life itself.

If not for the servitude of expression.

Hudson Howl Principal Enigma In Charge of Principles, Scruples & Fictitious Truth

Beyond Plum Creek's SHākē Laureate in Residence. Part muse. A dapper Gandhian-like Mad Hatter, who goes about life throwing paint into the air in hopes something just might stick. And, he wears a cool hat.

Ol' Raven Curmudgeon at Large

A one-eyed old crow that thinks he is an Eagle. And tells it like it is, with a somewhat polluted angry bird philosphy.

Ruthie A Dirty Unkempt Fairy

An ugly star. An adolescent breeze on a tear. The compassionate vagabond. Content to curl up in decay and poverty. Home for her; where no one else dares. First to throw a lifeline. The first to bite back if poked.

In The Foreword Was Written

Light Lines. They fall. And you know they will. You pick them up. They disappear. Still. They fall again. And I would have told you, had I known you then. Slow it down. Quietly step back. Be still. Listen. Listen with your eyes. Hear what the light has to say. As shadows bend across mindsets. And again, I would say, had I known you then. Oh how I wish I could think without thinking. To see things simply. As they are. Just to have it all fall into place. Making complete and perfect sense.