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Featured Entries
May 21st, 2001
The sun is coming soon, and I hope my sleep will be right behind. I'm dead on my feet, but not for the reasons I expected. I didn't spend all weekend busting my ass for the newspaper. I don't do that anymore. I'm leaving the paper in five weeks, and will not look back. I may write for it, I may not. I will decide that when the time is right for that decision. Right now, the only decision I have to make is whether or not to grab a beers from the fridge. Probably not--I'm already so drunk.

April 19th, 2002
You have to wonder why people choose certain professions. I mean whatever would possess someone to spend all day digging around in other people’s mouths or fannies? But I have to say that I am glad someone does!

I have a great dentist. (Not the ‘periodontist’ that I shouted at a few months back.) He’s a real “people’s dentist”, with a let-sleeping-dogs-lie attitude. He treated Nelson Mandela in prison. Has a letter of thanks from Madiba on his wall ’n all. Now he lives and works just up the road from Madiba’s house. Me too. Who says things don’t change?

April 19th, 2002
You have to wonder why people choose certain professions. I mean whatever would possess someone to spend all day digging around in other people’s mouths or fannies? But I have to say that I am glad someone does!

I have a great dentist. (Not the ‘periodontist’ that I shouted at a few months back.) He’s a real “people’s dentist”, with a let-sleeping-dogs-lie attitude. He treated Nelson Mandela in prison. Has a letter of thanks from Madiba on his wall ’n all. Now he lives and works just up the road from Madiba’s house. Me too. Who says things don’t change?

January 9th, 2008
In a dream I saw a man,
he was the color of fire.

He walked bare and shining
across soft red hills.

He talked to God.

He moved his bright hands across his eyes
in a gesture of despair, a shimmer of dimensions
haloed where his hand moved
and lit his forehead as he walked.

Little dead birds littered the dusty ground,
the remains of birds
fallen from the dry thin air,
Preserved in dust
their feathers traced bright lonely halos.

They whispered goodbye to God.

In a dream I saw a man,
he was tall and burned like fire.



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