Writing and the Writer’s Life

Any person who has ever taken an introductory creative writing course has heard this advice: "write about what you know." Ironically, the very next advice seems to be "write about what you don't know." The instructors think they're clever, but I can't count how many times I've heard this. You can't accurately write about something... Continue Reading →

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A Letter From Defeat

Defeat handed me A letter; corners neat, Skin pale, body Trim. On the back, A seal with the letters FU Pressed hard In black wax. On the front, My name, dead Center. No loops, no frills, No flourishes. Just cold, Black type. I threw the letter On a fire and delighted In its crackle.

A Love Letter

My dear, It's hard to be certain of anything in this world, but I've always considered myself one of he lucky few who understands more than most. I see the world for what it is and I know how it works. I also understand myself quite well. I know what I like and dislike, what... Continue Reading →

How Black is the Shadow

At last, I have finished the first draft of my fantasy novel. The book is the first in a series called the Ashborne Chronicles, and I have named it How Black is the Shadow. As the title might suggest, there are some heavy, poignant moments. However, like most fantasy novels, there are many moments of levity... Continue Reading →

Mind Trip is on Amazon

It's out! Mind Trip is finally out. So click the link and get your copy now. If you need a reminder of the plot: Surrealist artist Eric paints what he thinks, paints what he sees, and sees what he thinks. Ever since he was a child, the world appeared to him through vivid, dream-like hallucinations that... Continue Reading →

I Belong

I sit under the eyes Of striped birch trees Whose roots raise the earth Around me like a mossy bed. The grass prickles The bristles along my skin, And the ants march Over me as though Right there, In the damp, musty soil, I belong. Yet, the sun drips down The cloudy blue walls And... Continue Reading →

Mine is the Fairest

All the bards before me Wove words into phrases Embroidered gold With wit and romance. Their brazen basses And tenors tuned To tingle and quiver All the fibers Of the hearts Of their lovers. "Mine is the fairest." So say they all. "Her eyes are down. Her lips are liquor And I'm drunk, And I'll... Continue Reading →

My Fingers Sleep Alone

The calloused tips Of my fingers Have collapsed into a numb Sleep after years crumpled Into a fist. Cold As the bones beneath, They fumble Like a child blind In the dark, Reaching for a familiar touch. They find Nothing. Senseless, Even to each other, They shiver In a row In the sun. The pen... Continue Reading →

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