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Bent Pencil

Bits, scribbles and the random spilling of lead

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The Mother Arm

A novel about the slow piling of life during the formative years of a boy and those around him; and the inescapable fates it creates. A lush story-telling style of humor and regret; woods and religion; hope and pain. We don't always show what's there, but in the end, it finds us.

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Joblessness

A feckless scad of poems around being thrown on the street for no reason. Well, other than execs cashing my hide for more corporate profits. There are the pissers and the pissed upon. But mainly the pissers...

In the Wild Pit of Sanity

For many years in the off-season, I hole up for a week in a remote cabin with Dog to escape reality and write. Or, moreso, to FIND reality. No people. No cell service. Just pencils, unkempt woods and untied mind. These notes to self are tracks I left: Poetic, lunatic, inspired and raw.

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Shipyard

Oddities. Weirdities. One-offs. Works in progress. Illegible notes. Illogical ideas. Half-built, dry-docked. Some may float some day. Some never will.

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Murders in Gray

Temp title. A series in the works with delicious deaths. The so-called detectives are not larger than life, they are real life. Mainly older, with as many stumbles and issues as the tangled plots and secrets. Hip injuries. Hard of hearing. Forgetfulness. Poor vision. Obstinance. But they can't let go of what's in front of them. There will be humor and swelling moments but also pain. And fear. And sometimes it might break your heart. It is a murder series, after all.

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