Playfield
Across the desk the mere smile of the negotiator caused the emporor to rethink his diagnosis, to reposition every second representative chip of his battle plan. No fool this king of the playfield; no sooner had the shape of the plastic swingset seat left his buttocks was he a man headed for infamy. You cannot kill the workers after they burn the bridge, for who will build it again? He knew this, and he said it slowly, as though to emphasise the decision of which friend to murder first had been received from his superiors.
related articles
- A SELECTION OF POEMS FROM MY NEW BOOK (July 1st, 2008)
- CORPSE CONFETTI (May 21st, 2008)
- MY NEW BOOK NOW ONLY $13.99 (April 20th, 2008)
- GO ON, RATE MY POEM (February 29th, 2008)
- AN ANARCHIST BURNS THE VERANDAH (February 27th, 2008)
>A Dark Samadhi 1st Edition buy direct from the Author $15.00 incl. postage - email for details
SCALPEL (Chicago - OUT OF PRINT)>>
