I am a writer. Not a famous one, nor maybe even a good one. But it’s what I do. I’ve been writing since I was 9, and I’ve managed to make a career out of writing. I expect that I will continue to write until I no longer can. Hopefully, that will be on the day that I die, because I can’t imagine having things to write that I am unable to put down.
I’ve collected various writings here for those who wander by to enjoy. Some are categorized — one might call those categories “books” — while others are little more than scattered leaves on the wind. I hope you enjoy them. Please share them if you do, though I ask that you don’t copy or distribute them. Simply point others back to where you found them, here, so that they might discover other things I have written and enjoy them as well.
Stories
Stories have long been my passion. I like the way stories tell truths through lies. I tend to be all over the place with stories that I’ve written — science fiction, fantasy, romance, mundane. If a story seems good to me, I will do my best to tell it.
Poetry
I go through phases with my poetry. Structured and rhyming poems are frowned upon by many writers today, but I toy with it from time to time. I also like trying to capture the rhythm of vers libre.
Notes and Splinters
- splinters strewn across the hard wood floor
- Cloak for the Mud
- Me, My Head
- Monday Night Gitsis
- Something
- Pew
- The News
- Thirsty
- Lesson of the Gray Blonde-Tailed Squirrel
- Near an old house
- From a Height
- On the Couch
- Homilies
- vii
- Catechism
- A Mid-Winter Night
- untitled
- Wind blows shadows on the floor
- Your lover, my love
- Yearbook
- While Nature Sleeps
- We are two men
- To Whomever’s Eyes Are Laid Here
- Little Boys
- One Afternoon
- Clowns
- The Game of Modern Snow Angels
- Postlude to a Prayer Book
- Excuses for the Dogs
- Epiphany
- Note to Self