After “The Omen”
Where Poe Street ends, in darkness…
The Omen
Upon the wire, the raven stayed,
Through gutter wind—rain and cold air;
It marked—yet none could name nor know
What stirred beneath, nor whence below.
The Strike
Beneath the slabs where weeds have grown,
Home to the slugs and things unknown—
A livid flash—then—
Crack.
The Still
No wing was stirred, no breath remained—
The dark withdrew, and nothing stayed…
Still. No motion. Rat no more.
Born Blessed in South Korea in 1969 and raised in Baltimore, I’ve built a career with 20 years in customer service and 10 years in behavioral health. The crowning jewel of my studies came when I earned the only passing grade of an A from a Harvard professor — a true master of the craft of Shakespeare
And the English language, whose guidance opened the gateway to worlds of imagination, discipline, and wonder.
Married for 25 years, I share the good life with two dogs (Isabella and Juliet) and one cat named Maddie. In my free time, I enjoy writing, biking, gospel music, and spending time with my pastor and friends.
