Category: Creative Writing

The Rock Duck

Subsisting mainly on a diet of smaller canyon mammals, this smallish medium-large bird (bigger than the family dog, but only by enough) isn’t a duck at all, but rather a member of the raptor family– a kind of hawk or buzzard or vulture. The Rock Duck got its name not because of its looks (for

The Dancing Deer

Out in the middle of New Mexico, where the fertile Rio Grande river valley cuts through the foothills of some unknown mountain range, and desert gives way to a lush pine forest, somewhere along the road from Roswell to Alamogordo, you’ll find the most curious and horrible kind of deer. Easily 10 feet high at

Notes from Under the Grounds, part two.

Part II. Now, kids, what I want to tell you, whether you’re listening or not, is why I couldn’t even be a bitch. Honestly, there were plenty of times I wished I could be a bitch. But the wish never came true. Really, kids, I now know that being connected—“plugged in” as we used to

Notes from Under the Grounds…

Part I. I am depressed. … You don’t know me. I am spiteful and alone. I think I have social anxiety disorder. Or maybe not. I don’t know. I’m not in therapy; I’ve never even been to an analyst, though I believe in modern medicine and think everyone could use a little counseling. I’m incredibly

Sci-Fi Saudade

Part One: Temps Perdu “À la recherche du temps perdu”… there really isn’t a great translation for it in English.   “In search of lost time” and “remembrance of things past” are the most common, but perdu is so much more subtle… it’s lost, missing, wasted, alone.  There’s a sense of darkness and despair to