Humbly submitted…

So there’s this book, and we’ve been tinkering with it, trying to get it all just so. Is it perfect? Of course not. Not by a long, arcing shot. There are typographical errors in the text. There are flaws in the formatting. The only thing that keeps either me or Pretty Publisher from spiking the … [more]

Carol (out of season)

  “Spirit!  Do not leave me!” —Ebenezer Scrooge (Chas. Dickens), “A Christmas Carol”   What happened on Christmas Eve was odd enough that its strangeness persists still in reminding me of the unpredictable salvageability of human nature, and the omnipresence of . . . something. Whatever spirit it was, it moved them. It moved us. … [more]

Bangstick

I like my rifle. It’s a fine piece of gear. When I was a private long ago, the army issued me a tattered old M16A1, late Vietnam era issue, stamped with the maker’s mark of General Motors Hydramatic Division. It was so loose and wabbly in its action that it wouldn’t cycle more than three … [more]

Stoplight Epilogue

26OCT 05, United States of America We were almost home when a round number fell out of the radio. I put my hand up to my mouth, remembered that I don’t smoke anymore, and put it back on the steering wheel. The traffic light ahead flashed to red, and we all stopped together. Looking straight … [more]

Gardening Children

This evening, Smalldaughter read herself to bed with Robert Louis Stevenson’s “A Child’s Garden of Verses.” The last person who read that to me was my mother, a lean redhead with a lilt in her voice at bedtime belying the circumstances surrounding her. We never knew why she barely ate at the table, took her … [more]

After the MEDEVAC

We turned in helmet, rifle, vest; packed Hollywood knife Stetson and spurs picture of a redhead’s smile and an ammo pouch with candy to send home without the teddy bear he told his son he’d keep.

Stryking out

Rush down alleys, stone walls fly past, impact bullet punched deep into fatty liver narrow young man drops gun, dogma, life itself to steal is repurposing, liberating sometimes defensible to kill is squandering everything he had trickles down filthy gutters wasted.  We never slowed down.

Sky liar

The wind was up, rain interspersed with sunshine.  One of us was being a gentleman about it, and I’m sad to report it wasn’t me. “I dunno if you want to go up in this,” Justin said politely. “Looks like we’re off for today. I don’t want anyone getting sick.” “I don’t get airsick.” “Well…” … [more]