Traveling by subway, bus
to newer realms, I discovered
Wingohocking, a name that sounds
like bullets flying between gangs–
Wingo vs. Hocking.
Who would win the war?
Anyway, it is a cold October morning; he was misplaced I tell myself. Never mind the fact that I crushed his neck or that he now lies on his broken back gurgling his last breath from collapsed lungs. He should have seen that...Read More
When Sylvia and the children reached the clinic yard, it took only a glance from her for them to drop down in the shade, at ease. Their clothing, all hand-me-down, was the norm. The land was tired and jobs were scarce, hardscrabble made harder by the Great Depression.Read More
I went through a frustrating plethora of freelance writing assignments during this period, with various levels of success and exacerbation — success in this case defined simply as not prompting murderous feelings of bitter resentment.Read More