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  • On Writing…

    If you’re doing your best writing, you’re always on the cusp of embarrassing yourself.” –Arthur Miller I’ve been tasked to write my Author’s Mission Statement. It’s in the brainstorming and drafting stages at this point. I’ve stolen phrases from other writers I know. I’ve stuck fancy words in it and wrangled them around to make Read more

  • My School Family and Friends

     It must be the year thirty-eight, thirty-nine, or it could be forty of my teaching career.. I felt good when I walked onto campus this year until I found out my friend, the head cook, wouldn’t, couldn’t be back to work. She has terminal cancer. She seemed fine at the pool this summer. She did Read more

  • A Journey With Frank Sinatra

    The pile of vinyl records dropped one Frank Sinatra album onto the turntable. He crooned about Strangers in the Night, and I smiled in my sleep. The needle skipped and Snoopy and the Red Barron were fighting it out in the sky. The needle jumped to Bolero, it pranced around in my head, and a Read more

  • How to hide a genius

    Shunning is done with silent delight. Read more

  • Every storm runs out of rain

    It wasn’t the right plant for the right place like she’d hoped. Read more

  • The Simple Pleasure of Coffee 

    It was a monumental act of kindness. Read more

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  • Somebody’s Gonna Hate Me For This.

    One of the “Thou shall nots” said not to kill; they decided they might as well do it anyway, but Moses, that wild man, parted a sea and took off like a shot

  • The Question of the Tractor

    “You damned idiot, you’d be late for your wedding, if you could find a damned woman who’d put up with your shit” said Cedric. He was trying so hard to be positive. He couldn’t though. He was an old man from out the creek, Clymers Creek. Paul couldn’t pour piss out of a boot. All…

  • A Nod to Dante

    In the middle of the journey I came to a dark wood where the straight way was lost. There was no yellow brick road circling toward an emerald city, only a crooked weed lined path with scraggly trees and tumbleweeds. None of the medication I took every morning made the day go right. Harpies to…

  • The Circle: A short chapter

    *The Circle “Well done! Well done!” Will stepped into the firelight, clapping. “Which one of you has the voice of an entire choir of angels? It could blow a hole through the top of the Globe. Now I will always have your voice in my head.” Rue crossed her arms and bent her head to…

  • Real Job?

    My first real job couldn’t have been when I was a waitress or a bartender. They were menial, physical, fast, and required a lot of memory. It was fun to be fast on my feet and fast in my head and hands. Those jobs required social skills and smiles, and knowing how to handle a…