Me! Pwl, a HrævenScribe. CAW-HRRARRK!
+++SITE MIRRORS+++ AT TECHNOCOM AT DEMON +++MY OTHER SITES +++ CROAKING of the dark CORVIDAE +++EMAIL+++ pwl@diplomat.co.uk pwl@ptech.demon.co.uk		Yes, I count myself as a friend. Vain as any merely ordinary poet. A NotGoff. Don't make assumptions. Most of my CyberFriends are a bit weird and dark; thought I'd jump on the Gothic Bandwaggon. Even if I have been known to lurk in graveyards by night and write about ravens and ghouls, it is no excuse for presuming the Nihilist Tendency. These things are mainly by accident of circumstance. Hmmm, not sure I believe that either. Okay, p'hraps I'm a MaybeGoff. Never mind, I shall claim any set of disbeliefs I want to. And claim Procrastination as the Wisdom of the Unknowable. I have also been called a Hippy, and more recently, a Raver, and even a boringly ordinary unperson. [shrug] People see only what they wish to see. Well, the piccie is from a few aeons ago now... but I'm still vain about my hair, okay? Even though I have very slightly less of it these days. [sigh] I have decided that the closest thing to a mid-life crisis that I will permit myself to indulge in is worrying about my hair. Constructively. Like what colour should it be today? Usually I settle on the original almost-black, but with a red streak. Don't mind being a bit of a fake, but I do insist on being openly and honestly so. I go caving too. Now that is really bad for a hairstyle. BADHAIR The mud does wash out eventually, thank goodness. I do have some good hair days though. Especially if I'm going to a party. GOODHAIR If you really don't know the difference 'twixt a Cráwan and a Hræfn then I am such a Sad Little Hróc! Click on the Corvidae URL to the left for further endarkenment. CAER! Ummh, for those that are curious about such things IRL, I'm a left-handed male sagittarian, born into the sorrows of this world London 1956. And a boringly ordinary unperson at that. Possibly this surprises me more than it does you.

ZILLAH ~ the Despair of Fallen Angels
+++WEBSITE+++ Corpse in the Cupboard +++EMAIL+++ squee@ibm.net		Zillah is a purry-furry poet and a gothling-lady who keeps a pet tarantula. I am given to understand that she feeds it on little goth-bois when they no longer please or reply to email demands for more poetry. You have been warned. Apart from that, Resident Goddess of an amazing Goffy website... finding that, and exchanging dark words by email since, gave some encouragement to start my own site. So you can blame her, at least in part. (:>~ She has so much more fur than me. But I never expected this world would be fair, so I won't bear a grudge. Though I reserve the right to simple envy. Oh, well, I'd best get back to the wordsmithery. Don't want to be a spider's cyberlunch now, do I? No, I don't have a photo: I had to use my imagination. But even as a kitten, this one would have to poke her prickly tongue out at the world.

SomaCrow ~ the CyberMuse from Hell
+++WEBSITE+++ North/Northwest of Eden +++EMAIL+++ SomaCrow@aol.com		Now this is a wondrous little cráwan-poet. Doesn't she look such an innocent-smiling sweetie? "Mostly harmless" even? Heehee! It is just a cover of course. SomaCrow has the most wickedly dark sense of humour... I reckon yon beaky-one would find it _intensely_ amusing to pluck a feather from my tail to sign death-warrants with. (:>) Has already offered me a grave at Heaven's Gate too. SCRIPT Unfortunately we roost on opposite branches of the worldtree, so all we can do is cackle-caw to each other in the night, and swap scribings for litcrit... Our Lady of Standard English, looken ye. Though I did once suggest that this one must be the unhomed spirit of some ancient demonic power... and that has never been denied. Bleagh! This mischievous Sinistral jabs one talon in my mind, and with the other tweaks my tailfeathers. Just to see what makes me babble-caw my heartwords out. From typical Corvine curiosity I suppose. But I'm intensely envious of her glossy feathers, and we are heavily into verb-abuse. CAW! Here is a little newspaper STORY. [wicked grin of poetic injustice] ...Oh! what's this, night-knocking from my inbox? ...Ummhh, looks like some of her sweet scribings for comment... Oh dear!... It's a death-warrant. Made payable in my name. Hr'k?!

"I live not in myself, but I become Portion of that around me." ~ Byron