Dusky Musky Ophelia

Ophelia is outside my house. Painting the very air in cinnamon hues. Swirling past garbed in widow’s weeds. Spiraling off strange currents. There is musk and spice in the air: The tail-end of lusty desires. The very air resonates with a heady tang and bated breath This storm blows.   Copyright Tom Tide 2017   … More Dusky Musky Ophelia

Take Me

Bathwick. Bath. 1927. Valeria had watched the man for over a week now, and always in the early morning. From her solitary table on the balcony terrace she would first hear the gentle slap and pull of his oars working the river, then see him glide slowly in to view. Straining on the oars and … More Take Me