27 January 2011


Silently the shroud of white
Nestles on the earth
Ornamenting the land with
Wet crystals
Falling gracefully, floating cheerfully
Landing and bonding to form an
All-encompassing blanket
Kept neatly unbroken by feet or shovels
Evoking warmth though ever cold, for
Surely the winter can be both

10 Feb 10

26 January 2011

more "love song"

another few paragraphs of my short story "love song". read the rest here.


It was like him to sit and stare off, despite the distractions around him. Maybe it's what made him the musical genius he was. “Beauty is everywhere,” his manager would say, counting twenties in the coach van as it slid along the highway into the desert. Still the songwriter was absorbed in his musical fantasies. When the thought of having even just one drink with a lady was brought up, he'd fidget and flick his fingernails under each other, mumble something like “yeah, we'll see,” and go back to his inner sanctum.

Another show, another crowd of adoring women, another bar, another night wondering what was really going on in that head of his. Sometimes it seemed like a spirit wanted to jump out of him and grab the first gal it could, wrapping her with its spirit arms and wooing her with its spirit words, but a great force kept it back, made it abide. The great wall stood, seemingly impenetrable. Female fans flocked to him, and he nodded and signed in silence, making those girls want him so much more. He finished with a flick of his hat and stomped off with his hands wringing in front of him. I shook my head.

Across the desert in another town, I decided to give a little more of a push. During the show, I scanned the crowd for a young lady who the great singer might take a liking to. There were plenty to choose from, but after chatting some of them up, I decided on one pretty-looking girl in particular. She was brunette, leggy, and sported a great pair of glasses, the true sign of an intelligent woman. I thought maybe the great musician might be attracted to a little more than just perfection of form. We talked for a bit after the final set, and I explained my plan to her. She was thrilled, to say the least, and she offered a time and place, a nice saloon not far from where we were staying. I said we'd see her there.

12 January 2011

an excerpt from DAY CAMP

here's a chapter from my newly-completed and in-the-process-of-being-edited novel(ette). whatcha think?


“You can't do it! You can't do it!” Anna bellowed from one of the benches.

The group sat at the red picnic tables in the center of everything: the sports field, the church, Ms. Annie's white building. They tore out lunch bags and devoured their contents with haste, as if they needed to finish before something catastrophic happened. Their counselor, at the head of the tables, read one of those teen magazines with big pictures and brightly-colored fonts.