A woman from a fishing village slaves in a sweatshop, making shirts for retail stores, selling them at low prices to help save shoppers money to spend at McDonald’s after the Little League game tonight. She makes barely enough money to pay the rent of her shared one-bedroom apartment in the city where hucksters scrambleContinue reading New World Slavery [poetry]
Halloween Contribution [fiction]
Hello and Happy Halloween. My younger grandkids are excited about trick-or-treat tonight: Candy, candy, candy. While I break from working on my writing project, I am posting an old story for Halloween. Benefactor deals with crazy people and arson. Happy reading, heh-heh. And have a Happy Halloween, of course. Whether you are in it forContinue reading Halloween Contribution [fiction]
Night Falls Swiftly [poetry]
Night falls swiftly on us— It is the secret bits of life to do yourself the way you do— A flash in the sinking sun, Ten thousand years rebounded, Vibrations— It is hell. Wild you are but ripe for life In the gray and raging glee— Nobody likes to die, but it is evening hereContinue reading Night Falls Swiftly [poetry]
Eventide [fiction]
It was eventide over their heads, like old bourbon in a brandy glass, straight up. They came shyly as mosquitoes near still water, their flashlights adrift over dark girls in secret boxes. Their nights belonged to the wind. The lake loved Sarah in secret. In her canoe, she was an enigma from the shore, carvedContinue reading Eventide [fiction]
Passing [poetry]
Sunday mirrored light of a hot sun reflecting off of brick buildings and parkways where a hospital sits deep brown and yellow in its last degree, fading like the old woman inside dying with a smile on her face, happy to be leaving. But I with a burlesque smile am sad to watch her go.Continue reading Passing [poetry]
War and Rain [poetry]
War and rain are long; our patience is gone and burns much faster in the zone. War and rain are long; our broken bones and lullabies char the path to your home where your war torn love bears a daily weight for years alone. War and rain are mean; their dirty green and red areContinue reading War and Rain [poetry]
Rightful Heirs [poetry]
Man’s abstraction is his mad reality— His crazy reality is our despair His ruin-prone proud national heritage befalls us for a wretched dream Ancient fires fuel his greed made savage by marketeers A proprietor evicts a family struggling to make ends meet No compassion He says he needs his money to pay his bills— butContinue reading Rightful Heirs [poetry]
Death [poetry]
When you are dead, no one invites you over for a drink Birthday parties are no longer valid, and holidays are past pictures, cards, and fading memories When you are dead, no one sees what you’re wearing No one speaks to you as someone alive anymore No one notices the dirt beneath your nails, orContinue reading Death [poetry]
Dream Voyeur [poetry]
When I sleep you hide paralyzed in the shadows of my bed where your courage to live vanished long ago. In your world of mocking corpses you charge against me in wingless dreams and knitted walls and empty stares that run from the drum of my heart. You bleed broken knuckles against your hidden doorContinue reading Dream Voyeur [poetry]
Bones in the Sand, 2 of 2 [fiction]
Sarah held her youngest son to her bosom and calmed him. Kenny sat nearby, watching. He leaned toward them with excitement building on his face and refrained from speaking. His mom still hushed his little brother. “There, there,” Sarah said, “a skeleton in the sand, that’s all it was and nothing more. Nothing is goingContinue reading Bones in the Sand, 2 of 2 [fiction]
Bones in the Sand, 1 of 2 [fiction]
It rained on the island for five days. On that fifth day, water stood in the furrows between the rows of vegetables in the garden behind the house. Although it was July, Sarah added a log to the fire in the fireplace and pushed Kenny closer to it, for the dampness inside had made theContinue reading Bones in the Sand, 1 of 2 [fiction]
In Memory of My Brother
My brother and best friend died on July 8, 2016. He was 57. Russ died on a Friday night while I was at work and feeling that something wasn’t right. I knew he was sick—he’d been battling cancer for several years and was growing weaker by the day. His cancer had reached stage 4. IContinue reading In Memory of My Brother
