My cat, Bill, sits at the sliding-glass door watching the birds play on the grape vines. He doesn’t reveal if he’s hungry for them or not. But he’s at the door, mesmerized. He’s waiting for his moment to slip through the doggy door and attack. Seeing the juncos, little birds…
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In bed at night, the machine guns start. At first, they focus on tanks, machines. It becomes obvious that the problem lie not in the machines but in the men operating them. The gun shots make them fall, one by one. An anti-tank rocket incinerates four men in their machine.…
Leave a CommentA pension just down the street from the Trier train station offered respite from the winding path I had taken through Germany. An air of solidity suffused the room where the woman checked me in for the night. She and her family lived in the house, which had a living…
Leave a CommentDear Readers, I’m attempting to publish my third book. I wrote the initial manuscript last year and finished the first draft this past summer. I am hoping to find a publisher. I solicited 120 agents this summer and have received 20 rejections and have not heard from the others, which…
2 CommentsThe demolition party went like this: Only enter through the back door at the top of the fire escape. Everyone bring their own drinks. Then they bring a little more for the house. A hammer, nail puller, or sledge was price of entry. That and a costume. It didn’t matter…
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