I'm not much of a poet and truly don't aspire to be.  But having finished writing for the day, I thought I'd jot a quick couple of lines to "hold the moment" until tomorrow. And as an experiment in meter, something I don't know a damned thing about save in an oral… Read full post »

Chapter 5

The American Gospel Mission entered the Nevada’s Great Basin in 1868.  You might say it started out as a Presbyterian churchman’s wet dream, if Presbyterian churchmen had such things, which they don’t, generally. 

Emma and Henry Nauman had left a nameless backwat… Read full post »

CHAPTER ONE 

Spinning the cylinder and rocking his iron up toward the roof ejected six spent shells from his carbon-glazed Colt.  “Damn it,” he shouted, feeling instantly guilty that God in heaven, who had spared his backside a second time on the Comstock, might suddenly/… Read full post »

If I wasn’t married

But I am

Happily I might add

Which I wouldn’t have said eleven years ago

When I wasn’t.

If I wasn’t married

I’d live on a houseboat

Like Rockford, the PI did in the Rockford Files

Except his house wasn’t a houseboat

It was a trailer.

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