STOLEN THOUGHTS(“shoplift a thought or two…”)Stony leaves on a glassy floor.Everything’s equal – onion and oak…The chance disappears in the bloodand piercing of mind slowly begins.Your thought’s like a scorpion, rip’nin...

Someone very quiet once lived here. This small crooked hut was standing on the very edge of the village. Its rotten logs were ancient and black from hundreds of rains, snows, and plants. Its windows were like two scary holes filled with cold blackness. Ho...