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Last updateTue, 06 Aug 2013 2am

Kathryn Soverane

Kathryn Soverane


Moon, spells WRITER.

Poetry, prose, the macabre of suburbia, noir, dark fiction, stream of consciousness, romance and horror,  good writing is the thing.


Kathryn currently resides in California.

Monday, 25 June 2012 18:14

I Am Gypsy

“The Queen of Cups! I just wait for you, And it is bad. And it is wrong. And unhealthy.” She giggled and jiggled. “The Queendom in your Kingdom, is a fucking disaster, and a disgrace to the English language. And probably Spanish. And French too. It’s all Greek to you. I am the Queen of Queens, and that is not New York.” She was peeling cards off the deck, slowly moving around the room, not quite dancing but taunting, looking at him. “Four queens better, that’s a hell of a hand. You may beg to differ, and I want you to, I want you to fucking beg. Four Queens, Ace high! But not as high as we are tonight!


Tuesday, 29 May 2012 00:56

With All the Romance

Saturday afternoon, things were about to pick up, she could feel it. He was sitting at the counter, next to the first seat, leaving room for someone to sit next to him. Dark hair, turtle neck sweater, new jeans, black boots, it was like he’d been picked out of a line up, sent in, the perfect bait, precisely her type but there was something off. She would to talk to him, of course. She knew him from somewhere, couldn’t place him. The other gals had chided her about it but she never did understand them, the way they were about things like that, the guy was a customer in the restaurant where she worked, what was the big deal? Shy was never a problem of hers.

Monday, 19 December 2011 19:51

Silent Night

Was Masterful and Wylie Sled Dog, Antler Happen and Blitzen to avoid the sack, Cookies on the table, the Milk Glass, hob nob and Pall Mall Golds the pail runneth over, The Chim-Chiminny, Chim Chim and Speed, swept that Sucker clean for passage through the open flue Season into the afterlife~

Wednesday, 19 October 2011 18:37

With All Fine Corpses

Autumn has come,
With all fine corpses masquerading in the folds,
Of her steady winds as they ride cool,
Through the night.