On Writing “A writer is not so much someone who has something to say as someone who has found a process that will bring about new things he would not have thought of if he had not started to say them. That is, he does not draw on a reservoir, he engages in an […]Read more "On Writing – Part I"
When I was a child winter came strong, and took away half of the year Snow fell from November to March, falling from the gray sky. It covered everything We walked, and tromped, and stumbled through the drifts We took hold of the bumpers of school busses skitching on the icy streets In the Snowbound […]Read more "Minneapolis, Ice and Snow"
Part One (Calhoun) School, turned inside out Piles of brick, dust…flowers plucked Fish out of water Part Two (Ramsey) Watch alien run Hide in the lonesome shadows Dream the days away Part Three (MIA) Quiet corridors Cool, pale marble, dark granite Walking into myth Part Four (Southwest) Day […]Read more "Schools – A Haiku Sextet"
Minneapolis Ice and Snow When I was a child winter came strong, and took away half of the year Snow fell from November to March, falling from the gray sky. It covered everything… We walked, and tromped, and stumbled through the drifts We took hold of the bumpers of school busses skitching on the […]Read more "Four Poems Read at the Troubador"
It was an image out of time A man walking with telephone in hand The long handset at his right ear The bulky base hanging from his fingers At his waist, the curling cord Like a bandolier across his chest A long cable trailing along the floor A […]Read more "Attached to a Phone Cord"
There was a silence. Everything was quiet except for the pounding rain, the blood rushing in my ears, and my heart thumping in my chest. I pulled another hit of whiskey from my flask. My hyper active nerves settled into a simmering mania. Enough whisky, and all moods were convertible into a lesser state of […]Read more "The Man with Lightning in his Eye (Part Four of Five)"
I ran down the slick pavement of the boulevard. The gargantuan I was chasing moved like a motorman, heedless of the streaming waters. My lungs were on fire. My heart was pounding like a drum. I had that taste of blood in my mouth that comes when I push myself too hard. The cops […]Read more "The Man with Lightning in his Eye – Part Three of Five"