Hills will tell you that you hate running, but hills lie.

Yesterday, on the Champs Elysees a British sportsman stamped his authority on his sport emphatically.

A new day will dawn. Fryup Press is the name I chose as a publisher. Why? Because we lived in a small dale called Fryup in the Esk Valley in the North York Moors. We now live near Glaisdale. This banner photo is our home, overlooking the Esk Valley.

A Charming Tale of Rainbow Snot. Much like mice that harbor bedbugs, children are the carriers. Things bacterial, viral, and otherwise bad for health. Plus, they give me heart attacks. Oh, okay, let me clarify. And by assisting I mean things like. Teacher and I are standing within equal. Distance of a child with rainbow mucous streaming down her face.

This site is marked private by its owner. If you already have both of these, great! Larr; Back to WordPress.

This was one of the first poems I posted on WordPress. And I thought it could use another airing. Flashes of strobe and heady weed streamed through a carelessly ajar door. The earth swirled and tilted when I arched backward, just to hear you swear as my hair tickled the bare tops of your thighs.