You can read a recent short story of mine here. The story started as a dream script that I would present to Jan Svankmajer, one of my favorite directors. In a way, my attempt was to give an interior monologue to a puppet or character in a stop-motion film. Much of Svankmajer’s work has no … Continue reading A Failure to Communicate
Losing my zen when I complain of rain. Atonement: A haiku for my grandmother who said I would be a teacher, but never saw me become one. I miss her homemade bread, soup, and pasta and the way she laughed. And, really, she’s one of the reasons that I have very little to complain about. … Continue reading Haiku Humpday
Of course, it was an English teacher. We’ll call her Ms. G. Oh, what a crush I had on her in sixth grade. All it took was for her to talk about a book in class and I would go read it. One day she happened to mention a book by Stephen King. I knew … Continue reading Happy Halloween
Even though my “to-do” list grows by the minute, I needed to take some time to write and hopefully get back into a weekly rhythm. Summer has been busy, mainly music, music, music. I played on two very different recordings and will be excited to hear what happens with them. And, I had a little … Continue reading Summertime is past and gone
Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes.) ~from Song of Myself by Walt Whitman I couldn’t help but notice that after I posted about reading more nonfiction, I posted about beginning The Iliad. So it goes. Thinking about Whitman also gets me thinking about his catalogues … Continue reading Never Listless
My life rarely works the way I think it will. Maybe that’s actually normal, I don’t know. Grad school was interrupted the first time by my grandfather’s cancer, then interrupted later by my dropping out, then continued much later after realizing that music, particularly the music that I like to listen to and to play, … Continue reading the post about not posting
It’s rare that I ever have a creatively useful dream. Most of the time my dreams are more like murmurs in a theater or bad action movie sequences. Not much useful there. Every now and then something happens that just stays with me. Here is one of the very few poems that I have pieced … Continue reading My dreams rarely interfere.
With their words, they gave me the world. They turned handles, lifted latches, opened doors, opened eyes and ears. I was possessed. I had to write, but what could I possibly offer that hadn’t already been chewed, digested, even spit out? I needed a place or a thing in the world that I could follow, … Continue reading Another Bradbury Assignment, But Which One?
For the past few years I have been working on a series of prose poems. As with most of my writing, it’s not happened as quickly as I would have wanted. I’m used to it; I’m a slow cooker, a crock pot. Here’s one that was published in Project for a New Mythology: And Wait … Continue reading Prose Poems
Stephen McClurg 