by Jim Stitzel | Nov 14, 2012 | Stories
Slitherin’, slimy, goopy and grimy, up it comes from the muck. Tentacles waving, bottomless cravings, it drags her into the guck. [Originally posted at Ficly]
by Jim Stitzel | Aug 31, 2006 | Writing
I’m not a poet. I’ve never really been a big fan of poetry. Poetry has always been one of those things that I’ve struggled to understand, especially those highly ambiguous poems where it almost seems like the writer is intentially _trying_ to confuse...
