From the Tarot…
You would think that the first time you “did it” would be memorable. Strength Well, I can tell you from a first-hand observer’s experience that it was. Rumors had been flying for weeks. Would they do it? When? Where? Now that was a given. The where was always out at the old quarry off Dummerhill Road. Dummerhill,…
Big changes are coming – the beginning of a new cycle on the wheel of fortune. Wheel of Fortune A big change would be to meet a woman who is not out of her mind, is supportive of my projects as I am of hers: someone who is an original thinker, and who matches me in some…
I am the Tarot’s mythical Super Star. The Star I am the twinkle in men’s eyes. I have delighted you in dance, opera, and theater; when I dance, I fly and need not touch the ground. The angels envy me because my unearthly voice registers so high it rings magically. I shame Sarah Bernhardt when I act.…
After the chaos of the past year when so much of the world became a desert of drought, destoying vast tracts of farmlands, then burning trees and animals. Rain should be welcome, but it slides away into floods. A jungle of fear grows, invasive vines entwine trees of hope until a dry stone mountain of worry must…
It is what you make of it, your world. But is it really all you’ve got? The World Your hands representing creativity, your feet representing mobility, your senses like windows to all that surrounds you. Touch is the panorama, your skin the largest sensory organ many different kinds of receptors. Sight actually has two kinds of receptors,…
“You think you see two?” I sputtered, baffled. “Two what?” The Sun The wand, bathed in the warmed gel, glided across my massive, otherworldly belly, searching, probing. I had been here so often before, this was now starting to seem like some awful, karmic playbook. How many more times could this possibly go wrong? Had I truly…
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Poetry
Liken me to any of the many men who have left the playing field, luckier than some at the outcome when the recap is revealed. We’re kicking through the litter on the sidelines or in the coal mines feeling just a little bitter. I was beckoned totally by the money but now I…
I began writing poetry when I was about 12 years old. Instinctively, from the beginning, I consciously tried to shape the flow of my words to match a sound I heard within, a vibration. I did not know what that inner sound was until years later when I visited a Japanese Garden. I hit the big bronze bell…
Latest Fiction
Willoughby de Mèche and me, being born in the same town on the same day, and no more than a quick, 30-second-fuse apart, were naturally destined to grow up fast friends in Firecracker, Tennessee. But to me he was always a kid, and will forever be my friend known as “Willie Cahoots,” a…
Hook Stone woke in the rear bedroom of his deer camp and saw a halo of white light on his bedroom ceiling. He blinked a few times and yes, a halo was still up there. He blinked some more, trying to clear his vision and his mind. Hook found himself head down the…
Memoir
“You don’t know how lucky you are to live here, to grow up with all this,” my mother would say, sometimes with a theatrical gesture toward the lake, the island, and the mountains. “Don’t ever take it for granted,” she finger-wagged. Was she crazy? If she only knew how deeply the place ran…
“A Rag and Bone and a Hank of Hair” (from The Vampire, Rudyard Kipling, 1897) Time flows over memories, reshaping them like wind flowing over stone. When I was about 12 years old Granny, my mother’s mother, told me what she wanted written on her gravestone. I didn’t want to hear her telling…
Green Mountain Writers
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