A poem about the cyclical nature of obsession.

A young boy falls into the waters of the North Atlantic.

He’s got his hook in me and it isn’t budging.

Just a random poem that just fell onto the page. Not my best piece, but thought I’d share anyway.

The sea goddess spat fire.

After a long hard day, a good night’s rest.

The Hook One day in Alaska there was a girl who worked at a store that sold fishing stuff. Her name was Hail. She was about 16 and loved to tell lies.

Waiting for the big fish.

The short story of an amateur golfer who misses the most important five-inch putt of his career and then gets run out of town.

First dates.