The only scent a rose may come to envy is a pineapple on the vine in the east facing window of a 3rd floor apartment. Confident and exotic, the plant announces itself before being seen, owns its space, and was the first plant I ever purchased a weapon to defend myself, my skin, the corner …
Ain’t We Lucky — The Good Times Project (Season 7)
WHEREIN THE AUTHOR CREATES FANTASY EPISODES OF AN UNPRODUCED SEASON OF THE 1970'S SERIES 'GOOD TIMES' WILL SUCCESS SPOIL JAMES EVANS? James gets caught in a surprise blizzard and is interviewed by a local weatherman, Gordon Howard, in that evening's newscast. James asks: How'd you get a job like this? Is this all you do? …
Continue reading "Ain’t We Lucky — The Good Times Project (Season 7)"
Creative Non-Fiction at Two Hawks Quarterly
The nice folks at Two Hawks Quarterly have published my story Madagascar, my first attempt this year to send out something else besides Poetry. (Not That There's Anything Wrong With Poetry). I sent it out on a lark just to gauge what would happen-- what happened next was a huge surprise to me. It was …
Continue reading "Creative Non-Fiction at Two Hawks Quarterly"
The Motor of Voice
Last night I itched to write something and had nothing to say. I'd fallen behind, not writing much of anything last month, set aside usually for National Poetry Writing. What I did do though, was rescue and edit work I'd paused on. Word Camera is a webpage that converts photographs into text. I had three …
The Notebook
On the train coming into Sacramento, I spent the time shuffling back and forth through my notebooks, trying to come up with something of value, something deep to say, to a room full of 200 strangers about writing. And not just writing, but the hardest of all: Humor Writing. I've been fortunate with much gratitude beyond all …
Museum Piece
Months before it opened, I was asked to participate in a poetry reading as part of a museum exhibit. When I finally went to the gallery, Generation to Generation at the Contemporary Jewish Museum, it was as reporter with a notebook slipped in my pocket. It wasn't until walking through the gallery and being present …
A Stranger’s Dream (A Halloween Story)
HE awoke screaming again. His head steaming and raw. He coughed to near seizure while some slow moving slime thawed, dripping the length of his throat like mis-swallowed gum. His breath was reticent to move and once it did unobstructed he angrily pounded the bedding with his fist until flurries of sweat rose in swarms …
BBQ Ribs For the Dead (on Writing, Loneliness and Repurposing Poems)
In two days time, there will be an office memorial for a coworker who died the weekend of my birthday. I came back from my personal 3 day weekend and a secretary passed my desk, stopped and told me how over the weekend Linda had died suddenly. I'd worked with her about seven years and …
Continue reading "BBQ Ribs For the Dead (on Writing, Loneliness and Repurposing Poems)"
Grace Jones Live
I chose sleep over the blood moon last night and woke up to good news for a change. A poem I'd been tinkering with over the past few weeks surprised me by being accepted in a journal. I included a draft of it in a submission package a while back and its acceptance this morning …
Mise en Poetry
'…mise en place' means far more than simply assembling all the ingredients, pots and pans, plates, and serving pieces needed for a particular period. Mise en place is also a state of mind. A couple of weeks ago, my friend met me in the city and we sat for lunch. She mentioned wanting to write …

