New Clay

New Clay finally is ready, so please click the link below and check it out.  It is available in hard copy ($11.95) or by download ($5.00).  Also, if you do read it, please review it.  I appreciate any constructive comments, and I definitely appreciate any who read this chapbook!

No matter where I go...

If those who forget the past are condemned to repeat it, then I may be safe.  This upstate, tri-county area of South Carolina and the years of my past spent here is etched across the stained glass of my life.  Touch me, read it like a Braille diary of heart and soul.

I remember when Central was just a place to get great hot dogs and burgers and play pinball while Dad talked to his buddies.  We watched movies on Tuesdays for fifty cents when there was a theater "uptown" in Clemson.  Then came the Astro and Manifest records.  We skated at Hollands or Skateland USA.  For a real treat, we went to the closest McDonald's in Anderson and then on to the mall or Belvedere Plaza.

A love of the outdoors blossomed along the banks of the Chattooga, the shores of Hartwell and Keowee, and the many trails and creeks in this golden tinged corner of the Blue Ridge.  I recall Burrell's Ford, Hell's Hole, Whitewater Falls, Issaqueena, the Sailing Club, South Cove, Twin Lakes, Friendship and Coneross.

As the years meandered, so did the small towns, inching ever closer to one another.  Chanelo's and Time Inn and the Steakhouse and Betty's and Mac's Drive In and Yousef's and Bantam Chef and Lucky Strike and Blakes's fed me.  A fake ID and Tiger Town Tavern and Tiger Den and the pool hall and Study Hall entertained me.  Stumphouse, Jocassee, Highlands, Pisgah Forest, and Chau Ram all fueled my dreams.

I remember the world stopping for one brief instant before I dropped from the Clemson rope swing.  I remember jumping from bridges into the cool waters of Hartwell.  I remember snake doctors flitting around the creeks and leeches in the rivers.  I remember smoking and dipping areas at school and Maryland Fried Chicken.

There were cults in Issaqueena and at least one crazy witch living mysteriously in every neighborhood.  Neighborhoods.  Adams, Normandy Shores, Singing Pines, Bayshore, Camelot, Keowee Key, White Oak Cliffs, the Mill Hill, Perry Hill, Port Santorini, Friendship.

Southern Bell was not BellSouth; payphones were readily available and a call would cost you ten cents.  Bergen's and Judge Kellers and GQ and Garrett's clothed me when Mom didn't feel like going to Swirl and buying fabric to sew.  I was glad she stopped designing my clothes when I turned eight, but I thought she should have stopped when I was old enough to walk.

Fuel and the evening's supplies required a stop at Don's or Red Diamond or Fast Fare or 7-11 or Hop's One Stop or Bountyland.  Charlie T's and Sharon's Cafe, Homecoming and Tigerama, Oktoberfest and bluegrass at Cousins.... When I hear John Lennon's "Woman" or Kenny Roger's "Lady" and so many other songs, I can hear the voice-over, "Couples skate."  In my mind, the lights dim, and hearts beat in unison loudly enough to muffle the sounds of the whole world. 

And the whole world was right here.  IS right here.  Home.  All my stories and dreams and steps have some of this blood running through their veins, powering the next story and the next dream and the next step.  I have resided in a dozen different places.  I have always lived here.

Update - Read All About It

As Dark in the Eyes continues to endure the edits and re-writes, I have two other works coming out in June. New Clay presents a collection of poetry, essays, and prose. Oconee Branch is a serial novel about murder, love, and loonies in small-town-South-Carolina. I hope you will check them out. New Clay contains some brand new stuff, by the way!

Be on the lookout for my new novel, Dark in the Eyes. A tale of one man's struggle to overcome his own weaknesses in the midst of murder, homelessness, and the pursuit of love, Dark in the Eyes will take you deep into one man's heart and even deeper into the meaning and true value of relationships.


A Short History of a Small Place

Not Shaken, Blurred

Stuck. My mind mired while my body yearns to move but waits on a mired mind to help it cross the street. Motivation is but a soft, brief breeze as tangible as yesterday. This has been a problem for two weeks, and the work keeps piling, stacking higher and higher. A friend suggested ADHD meds. What? Really. I wonder.... I often think that an assistant or partner would do the trick far better. Someone to share the load. Advice: never take for granted another's willingness to share your load. More advice: do not believe that you can play Atlas forever. Goal: be open to sharing the load.

Until then, I need to define more clearly the stacks on my desk, so I leave you with this, a work in progress which began as an ode to desire for my castle-dweller:

She unfurls clouds from distant skies
and sends me reeling
across the thin wire
and I yearn
she can fight
and she can love out loud
she spits fire
and I want
to burn

Longing

The best medicine is dictated by the diagnosis. The diagnosis by the symptoms presented, and the acumen applied. In general terms, some have put forth laughter as the best medicine. Laughter is an excellent choice for temporary relief, of course. Without laughter, we mortals may cease to uncover the joys of heaven, but I sit now, reckoning. The touch of another - caring, loving, concerned, tender, firm - another best medicine, for sure. I need that now. Everything is proceeding along quite well, but someone who understands the value of being held, snuggling close, feeling skin on skin - where are you?

Independence

Pondering the concept of independence, consider: Christians and non-Christians alike are apt to use the phrase "cross to bear." As in, "well, that's my cross to bear," or some variation of that. I rarely gave much thought to "bearing a cross" or to the fact that Jesus said "pick up your cross and follow me." The other night, though, I did think about it. I thought also about the double-minded nature of most of us. I believe we are born with the nature of the world and the nature of the spirit. When we operate strictly from our worldly nature, we are so much less than we are capable of being. Someone asked me why we are directed to "carry our cross." I think I know the answer now.

First of all, we are instructed to carry it because to expect us to be ready to discard it would be folly. We must carry it. Why? Well, unless you are ready to crucify your worldly nature and walk from that cross residing only in the nature of the spirit, you must carry it. For how long? Until you are ready. When you are ready, you will hang every last bit of crap that is in you upon that cross and walk away a new creation. Now, that is independence.