Tag Archives: Writing

An Architect’s Dream (excerpt)

Cut to a park bench. Early afternoon, December, the oak branches are bare and gnarled as ancient fingers and the sky is the color of mummy skin. Our hero is sitting on the weathered wooden bench, watching pigeons scrounge for … Continue reading

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All music has silences

          When I listen In a quiet room, my head is full of noise. I see a second version of myself, a third, a fourth, and the mirrored walls accommodate the rest of me. I see too much of myself, … Continue reading

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An Excerpt From A Work In Progress

Staff Sergeant Clyde “Haymaker” Periwinkle and his wiry little boy rarely mention the accident, but tonight the gloomy topic has loomed its skulking shadow. Clyde has been imbibing an obscene volume of malt liquor all day, dinnertime has come and … Continue reading

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