Tiny Life: A New Poem

Tiny Life

 

I long to be content with life

as tiny as it seems

amid the vast array of galaxies

and the cacophony of dreams

of otherwise and other ways—

the hue and cry of how

this moment could be so much more

than a speck of here and now.

 

More? How could it be?—

the lovers’ quickened breath, the moment in their eyes

as distant starlight finds them—

And the distant star? It dies.

Life is but a tiny thing.

The universe is vast.

The moment—it is everything,

but the moment doesn’t last.

 

“Once More Into the Abyss” on Tor.com

I’m delighted to announce the publication of “Once More Into the Abyss” on Tor.com, the third and final in a series of stories about Stan, who believes his parents to have been aliens.  The previous stories are “Adult Children of Alien Beings” and “Orphan Pirates of the Spanish Main.”  They are edited by Ellen Datlow, with the marvelous artwork of Chris Buzelli.

Alien Beings Artwork

 

All Sorts of Pub News

I’ve been neglecting the blog lately. (Curse you Facebook!) I have lots to report. A new short story is on Tor.com, “Adult Children of Alien Beings.” A sequel, “Orphan Pirates of the Spanish Main,” will appear next summer.  The fantastic artwork for ACAB is pitch perfect.

adultchildren_full

Even more exciting is the publication of my eighth novel, Bad Angels in October.  It’s available for preorder on Amazon.  I’m giddy about it frankly.  It’s a love letter to Richmond and a whole lot of fun.  You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll fly!

Bad Angels Cover Final 1563x2500

THE DONUT MAN: Part Four

Destruction_of_Leviathan

For Part One go here; Part Two here; Part Three here.

 

Chapter 19. Looks Downhill To Me

 For the more we look at the story (the story that is a story, mind), the more we disentangle it from the finer growths that it supports, the less shall we find to admire. It runs like a backbone—or may I say a tapeworm, for its beginning and end are arbitrary.

 —E. M. Forster, Aspects of the Novel

 

 I swing by the shop to get some donuts to take to Whit’s, and because I’ve just got to see it—the new parking lot, even more lovely than I’d imagined, a pristine black plain with crisp white stripes and not a speck of trash. It gives me a good feeling; all the cars parked in front of the shop, an even better feeling. I even love the guy standing out front talking on his cell phone, making what-are-you-an-idiot? gestures as he speaks, so he’s even obnoxious to watch. He’ll be all right once he has a donut. It’s today’s newspaper in the machine, and I don’t even mind the headline is about my favorite President. People can read the bad news eating my donuts for a change. Continue reading