"There are those who write things down and those who don't."  Judy giggled a bit as she realized she was talking aloud to herself.  "And a whole lot o' people in between who do a little of both," she continued.  With a sigh, she snuggled into the chair next to her bed.  "If you don't write it down, then it didn't happen."  Where had she read that? She closed her eyes and unconsciously massaged her left wrist where the bullhead IV lay in her vein.  That...

When I was in my late teens/early twenties, I would eat the occasional moth, grasshopper, ant, etc. to entertain my young children and their neighborhood friends.   I also swallowed other things, goldfish and guppies to name a couple, to amuse them (and myself I suppose).   This was great fun on camping trips.   Haven ridden motorcycles all my life, I’ve ingested countless flying things I’d rather not think about.   During the eighties there was a group...

Momma’s Rain has just been released by Gatto Publishing. Check it out at: http://www.gattopublishing.com/ The novel is available as an e-book and also on CD. The CD version is complete with nine songs written and performed by the author. If you’re interested, the first chapter and an interview with the author may be viewed at: http://mommasrain.4t.com/about.html. You may sample the music at: http://truefire.com/list.html?store=original_music&viewauthor=3554 Songs included on the CD a...

Sometimes I Feel I have been a player and singer in rock bands for three decades. I wrote songs for bands before I did any other kind of writing. My son learned to play guitar about the same time he learned to walk. I don’t do bars anymore and I wonder what keeps me singin’ until something happens like the other night. My son, Tommy (who is now twenty-seven years old), has a studio at his house and I went over to lay down some tracks on a CD he’s helping me with. Matt, a guitar ma...

I Would If I could be a pillow, a safe place to lay me down your grief, I would. If I could be a basket, I would gather all your sorrow, cast it out into the seven directions, I would. If I could be a fountain, I would flow with you through the seven waters of your soul. I would always be your friend, I would. Madman Chronicles: The Warrior now available at: http://www.publishamerica.com/shopping/shopdisplayproducts.asp?catalogid=3425 To discover the most dangerous w...

Flame Pushing words away lest they eat my sleep become the only part of me devour those golden hours which amount to the rest of me yes, away with dreams and all that seems possessed to make an end to me Anesthesia is an art to which I might at once lay claim a shallow grave divided I might just lay between some token awareness consciousness which came first coffee or cream blackout describes the best held dreams I lit a candle to threaten the stars but nobody’s laughin...

Earth Chapel In the city we imagine the cars are wild horses Buildings become mountains piled high one on top of another until they are small and one under a great expanse of sky where cave creatures dwell climbing into the bellies of the horses making false light against the night a collective prayer to forestall the dawn a curious perspective from our eyes we may leave and leave We are an old tree small and wizened, gnarled our Children flowers at our feet...

Birds I View Whomever hears a choir must needs long for Noel just so... those inclined toward the voices of birds listen for Spring as one might any day sing yet exalt in the clamor of rich pitch soprano and tenor rising on alto bass legs to soar all ways speak an air of wing There were five this morning whose dark coat raven one more bearer await the pall together badger the hawk make a meal of its prey caw caw caw the hunter they strut in magnificent jest whose eye...

Dear Reader, Looking into faces of choir whose voices reach, pass us through more each the crowd tone upon tone upon tone delicious... Love. Ah yes, what else is there in the Spring... youth.. the bloom of youth on love’s face. A poet would name it so and never Summer, that lustiest season of all. The rebirth of all things cries out regeneration, reaching to the Sun, a smoldering fire. A scent of lilacs in the city and country hay alfalfa are the stuff of sweet dre...

A compelling read! Daniel Meyer Texas (12/27/2004) An epic and compelling adventure. An artful blending of motorcycles and the unique souls who ride them, clashing cultures, family love, the loyalty and honor of friends, stunning betrayals, and inconceivable evil all swirling in a land teetering between apocalypses. Join Wulf as he leads his people into the labyrinth, part of which is a futuristic underground habitation that just might be their salvation...or something much, much mor...

His eyes are closed and a tear runs down his cheek It gathers in the filth on his face makes soft mud there His rifle leans against his left shoulder butt to the ground its bayonet gleaming hard and steel through the liquid red of new blood running running down to stain the gray cloak of his uniform His eyes open and he looks down and down upon the body of his just-slain enemy Blue material absorbs and hides the blood much better he thinks laughs hysterically He r...

I DECA - Interlude At dawn they loosen the chains skin tears steel remains The jailer spits on the floor rattles his keys in the door shines a light prison eye lines of bars no Earth and sky makes small talk scratches his ass belches and passes gas touches your girl’s picture on the shelf same hand touches himself chuckles and locks himself outside where he is a prisoner and monsters hide You curse yourself the single tear and damn the life that put you here No smokes and filth...

Inner Piece This work is dedicated to Jesus Christ, Elvis Presley, Jim Morrison, Abraham Lincoln, Friedrich Nietzsche, all those hopeless creative addicts of life. Introduction By Decree Motoring Colorado Ninety-three Rocky bad ass Mountains to the west of me a fist full of pink bellied dawn I got no excuses surrounded by the See drowning in a mess of pastel hues scared to death and fluffy as hell Sometimes it’s hard to breathe a surrounding warp tide No one trims these ...