From London to Real Winter

by:  Norman J. Olson

on Tuesday, January 15, 2019, Mary and I had a busy morning running errands…  not too long after noon, we caught a bus on the cold and icy corner of McKnight Road and Stillwater Road in St. Paul, a five minute walk from our house…  it takes about an  hour for this bus to get across St. Paul via West Seventh Street and Randolph Avenue…  we crossed the Mississippi on the Ford Parkway bridge and caught a light rail train at the 46th St. Station for the ten minute ride to MSP airport…  at about 5 pm, we got on a beautiful 767 for the overnight flight to London Heathrow…

we got to London early in the morning, and made our way to the tube station to buy new Oyster cards…  these are fare cards for the London underground and make getting around central London simple, cheap and easy…  Oyster cards in hand, we got the Piccadilly Line to Earls Court where I had booked a nice cheap hotel…  central London is very expensive but as you get further out, the hotels get much cheaper…  closer in than Earls Court, the prices go up…  further out, the prices are the same but the subway ride is longer…  so for a visitor to London, Earls Court is ideal…  and it is on the Piccadilly line which makes it easy to get to from Heathrow and as a busy line, trains are seldom more than a minute or two away…  the District line also stops at Earls Court, which makes it a straight shot to Victoria to catch a train or a coach…  anyway, the little hotel we use is modest and serves a free full English breakfast (beans, eggs, white toast, coffee, bacon and bangers) which is a great way to start off a winter day of exploring in London…

Art from Dante Gabriel Rossetti, woman in a green gown out in a garden

we find the best way to readjust jet lag is to just get on with our day, so after a few hours of rest and freshening at the hotel, we got the tube to Leicester Square…  we like to visit London in January because, while it is often cold and rainy, it is much nicer than weather in Minnesota in January and we find the crowds much less…  in summer in central London, it is sometimes so crowded that you can barely walk and the museums etc. just get sort of overwhelmed…  plus, in January, it is easy for us to get flights…  our pattern on these trips is to spend the days in art museums and the evenings going to plays…  so, at Leicester Square, we found discount tickets for the plays that Mary wanted to see starting that night with Mama Mia…  this is not my kind of music, but live theater is always fun and I enjoyed watching the beautiful young singers and dancers and Mary loved the play…

after the play, we were ready for a crash, so headed back to the hotel, just a few minutes away by tube…  the subway, of course, was standing room only with  the after theater crowd…  the next day after our fabulous breakfast, we took the tube with a change at Green Park to Pimlico…  where it is a short walk to the Tate Britain…  I had noticed that the Tate Britain was having a huge show of the work of Victorian Pre Raphaelite Edward Burn-Jones and was very excited to see the show…  it cost about $20 each to get in but the show was amazing…  Edward Burn-Jones was a second generation Pre Raphaelite whose paintings of fairytales, Arthurian legends and mythological subjects earned him a significant fortune in the late 1800s and became virtually worthless as the 20th Century wore on…  those who know me know that I have been a serious student of Pre Raphaelite art for many years and have traveled a good deal to see actual works, especially those of Dante Gabriel Rossetti… I am not sure why I enjoy this art so much, but I love to look at the Pre Raphaelite paintings and drawings and to read about the artists’ personal lives…

Laus Veneris, by Edward Burne-Jones

so, to see an exhibition of the magnitude and quality of the one at the Tate Britain was really a treat…   Burn-Jones (I read that he hyphenated his name because he wanted to stand out from the long list of Brits named Jones) is to my 21st century eye, a deeply flawed artist…  I would say some of his work is embarrassingly bad, some of his attitudes worthy of an eye roll from the enlightened pedestal of our own modern philosophical biases…  on the other hand, some of the images, like the fairytale paintings from Buscot Manor, brought down to London to be the centerpiece of this show, are just gorgeously, almost desperately beautiful…  the mechanics/techniques that he used are fascinating to me as a maker of somewhat representational oil paintings and I am just delighted with his ability to draw…  so, while I find some of his works, many of his attitudes  and some of his paradigms unpalatable I am still fascinated by looking at the paintings…  many of these paintings indeed are more interesting to me as autobiographical documents than as embodiments or illustrations of the mythological story told on the card next to the painting…  although, I cannot lionize him or his work as the Victorians did, I still enjoy looking at it and reading about his life and trying to see which faces in the paintings are his wife or his girlfriend…  he was btw, Rudyard Kipling’s uncle…

anyway, we walked from Pimlico to the Tate Britain and spent several hours looking at the Burn-Jones paintings, some of which are really wonderful…  then we walked along the Thames Embankment to the famously ornate parliament (Big Ben is hidden by scaffolding)…  there was a great police presence there and tents set up for demonstrators who were demonstrating either for or against Brexit…  I never did figure out which…

Beata Beatrix c.1864-70 Dante Gabriel Rossetti 1828-1882 Presented by Georgiana, Baroness Mount-Temple in memory of her husband, Francis, Baron Mount-Temple 1889 http://www.tate.org.uk/art/work/N01279

we then walked on to Trafalgar Square where we whiled away a couple hours in a coffee shop upstairs in a book store, sitting by the window watching the people come and go…  that evening, the play was Motown…  a musical tribute to Barry Gordy and Motown records…  again, not my favorite music, but I enjoyed the nostalgia and always can dig live music, plus, Mary picks the shows while I pick the art galleries, so I hope I have learned a lot and opened my mind a bit by learning to dig what she likes and she loved this show… I knew nothing about Motown, but I remembered many of the songs from the pop charts when I was in high school and later…

William Morris’ Golden Lily

the next morning, we took the Victoria line north to the end of the line at Walthamstow…  I had heard that there was a house there that William Morris had lived in that was preserved as a memorial to him and his work…  Morris was Edward Burn-Jones’ close friend and founder of the arts and crafts movement…  he was also a second generation Pre Raphaelite and so of interest to me in that context as his wife was Dante Rossetti’s girlfriend and subject of many of his best paintings…  I find it interesting that although we think of the late 1800’s as anything but liberated, these three were able to work out a ménage a trois of sorts that worked for them for a while…  and Morris is perhaps the only one of the Pre Raphaelites who is still relevant today as his work designing wallpaper and other household items, his philosophy of craftsmanship and quality in everyday products and his talents as poet, prose writer and socialist are modern in the sense that he actually accomplished more by publication and social activism than the more precious if artistically talented Rossetti and Burn-Jones who were fundamentally apolitical…

Chrysanthemums by William Morris

we got off the train at Walthamstow and started trying to find the William Morris museum…  we did not have very good directions…  there was a huge street fair going on with many stands lined up in the High Street selling produce and clothing as well as all kinds of other stuff…  none of the people either the sales persons or the customers seemed to have much in the way of English and the people we asked had not heard of William Morris or his house…  after walking about a mile through the street fair, we realized that we were on High Street and should have been on Hoe Street, so we backtracked and found a cell phone salesman who gave us good directions, although, we still had to ask at one more shop before we actually found the museum…  when we got there, it turned out to be a lovely old house with a series of displays about the life of Morris…  I found the story of his life to be far more interesting than I had thought and found his hand drawn wallpaper designs to be incredibly beautiful…  the house was set at the edge of a large park and we sat and had a soda and a coffee in the little shop looking out over the lovely lawns and old trees…  Morris only lived at this house as a child, but I thought that if he could come back, he would have appreciated this serious, lovely and lovingly presented monument to his life…

we took the tube back to central London and found the theater just off Piccadilly Circus where the play, the curious incident of the dog in the night-time for that night was playing… this was the only non musical we saw…  Mary had read the book and this was a thoroughly interesting play with lots of avant-garde effects which portrayed events in the life of an autistic child…  I found it profound and moving… yet it had some fine humor as well…   before we went into this play, we bought tickets for a play for Saturday night, the only evening we still had open…  we used one of the half price ticket booths that you see on Leicester Square and around Piccadilly…  the tickets of course, are not usually half priced but they are discounted and it is an easy way to book decent shows in one place at reasonable prices…  there was a whole foods market there, so we bought some snacks to bring into the theater which some theaters allow but others do not, in the cheap seats…  things are a bit more fancy in the pricy seats…  lol

Hope 1886 George Frederic Watts 1817-1904 Presented by George Frederic Watts 1897 http://www.tate.org.uk/art/work/N01640

the next day, we took the tube to Knightsbridge where we went into the Victoria and Albert Museum…  this museum is a vast treasure trove of art, furniture and archeological artifacts from all over the world…  I was mostly interested in the paintings and was delighted to find some small strange paintings by the great William Blake who I consider to be a minor artist, but perhaps the greatest of all English lyric poets…  and so anything his hand has touched is of interest to me…  there was also a very nice Rossetti painting of Mrs. Morris in a green dress…  a lovely weird painting but everything I love in Rossetti, so it was a joy to see…

Ophelia 1851-2 Sir John Everett Millais, Bt 1829-1896 Presented by Sir Henry Tate 1894 http://www.tate.org.uk/art/work/N01506

after a couple hours of wandering around this vast museum, we left and found a small Pret a Manger restaurant for lunch…  these places have baguette sandwiches, salads and soups that are always cheap, healthy and delicious…  a big improvement on the old days when all you could get in London was foul tasting Wimpy burgers and greasy newspaper cones of grease soaked fish and chips…  we then walked along Hyde park as dusk came into night… it was chilly, but we had our warm gear so were very comfortable and we walked all the way to Piccadilly…    that evening, we used some coupons that the movie ticket guy gave us to have a free piece of cake and a drink at a small café on Shaftsbury Avenue and then went across the street to see the play Thriller, a tribute to Michael Jackson…  again, the music was familiar to anybody who owned a radio in the 80s or 90s…  the musicians and dancers were beautiful, young and enthusiastic and the show was highly entertaining…

Mariana 1851 Sir John Everett Millais, Bt 1829-1896 Accepted by HM Government in lieu of tax and allocated to the Tate Gallery 1999 http://www.tate.org.uk/art/work/T07553

the next day, Saturday, was our last in London…  we spent the day again at the Tate Britian looking at the Pre Raphaelite art…  focusing this time on the Victorian room where wonderful pieces by GF Watts, Rossetti, Millais, Holman Hunt and other painters are hung…  I really do not get tired of looking at and studying these amazing paintings…  then we walked again to Westminster and had coffee and soda again at the same coffee bar in the book shop… we decided to splurge on a pre play meal, so had a wonderful Italian dinner at a small restaurant just behind the National Portrait Gallery and walked over to that evening’s play, called The Company…  which was a modern take on the musical about a single woman whose friends bugged her to get married…  it was funny and serious with some nice songs and the lead actress did a fine job of making the audience a part of the character’s life…

the next morning, we took the district line to Victoria Station, walked a few blocks to the Victoria Coach station and got on a coach for Amsterdam…  it was fun to see the English countryside of farms and hills and then we got to the Channel tunnel where the coach was put on this train that hauled us through the tunnel, a trip of about a half an hour…  we then spent the day driving across northern France into Belgium and arrived in Brussels in the evening…  we stopped and picked up some food and then went on to Amsterdam where we arrived at ten pm…  I had booked a hotel just off Dam Square in central Amsterdam…  I thought it was eighty euros a night but it turned out that I had read it wrong and it was eighty euros for two nights…  well, that was okay as it was very cheap, but the hotel was a bit more budget than even we usually use…  as we wound up having to climb a mountain of stairs…  fortunately, there was a younger man there who helped us up with our bags…

we did not do much in Amsterdam except walk around…  we went to the Cuyp Market where we basically walked around and looked at the goods offered in the many street stalls…  it was ten degrees colder in Amsterdam than London but still not bad by Minnesota standards so we were comfortable walking around…  the food in the market all looked and smelled amazing, especially the cheese shops with their many fat yellow cheeses stacked up…  but we are both on limited diets, so our only real dietary splurge was a Pannenkoeken that we ate with strawberries and whipped cream at a little restaurant we walked by that overlooked one of the canals just a few blocks from the Rijksmuseum…  as we enjoyed our Pannenkoeken which is a sort of light and delicious crepe, and sipped our drinks, we watched the sightseeing boats going by on the canal and the people walking by…

we then walked to a tram stop and took a tram back to Dam Square…  as it was dark by then, we walked around the red light district where it is always fun to see the groups of tourists heading for the coffee shops to smoke weed, ogling the high class prostitutes in the windows and glancing sideways at the porno shops with their racks of dildoes and leather underwear… lots of restaurants and bars and people partying…

the next morning, we took the train to Schiphol and caught a flight to Minneapolis…  at the airport, we met our son as arranged…  he brought us a hockey bag and a box both of which were full of Christmas presents our daughter had not been able to fit in her bags when her family went back to California after visiting us over Christmas…

then after checking those bags, we caught the eight pm flight to Las Vegas…  we had three free nights at a nice hotel in Vegas, so it was good to be there, in the relative warmth doing our usual…  Mary gambled and I spent the time reading and drawing…   we got to Vegas Tuesday evening and on Thursday had the pleasure of meeting with a well known art dealer who has become a friend and who I had never met…  he showed us around his galleries and we had a great time talking about art…  I do not know a lot of art people, so this conversation was very nice to me to talk about this stuff that is such a big deal in my little world…  lol with a knowledgeable and interested person…

we then left on Friday and drove to Riverside, California to spend the weekend with our wonderful daughter and her equally wonderful family…  it was hot in Riverside, so we got thoroughly warmed up and enjoyed playing mini golf with the grandchildren… on Monday we drove back to Vegas as we had another free night at a nice hotel…  then on Tuesday, we flew back to Minneapolis…  the temperature when we got off the bus at McKnight Road and Stillwater Road was -18 Fahrenheit (-27 Celsius)…  the north wind was so cold in our faces, we had to turn our backs to the wind three or four times just walking one block to our house…  even so, it was good to be back to our home and real winter….

Mind that Lost

The earth is crowded with people

So busy with so many works

Sleeping is also one kind of them

I know I sleep I know what I bent to

I know the mind abstracted from that world

I know I see the two doves how

They make love each other

You are delivering the lecture

Sitting just before the dais

Eyes rush to the birds

On the branch of a tree

How they make love

Sometimes talking with you

I lost myself far from reach

I think alone floating on the sea

But I know I am always with you

As usual so many performances to do

The mind goes to where I reside or not

You watch so careful

Love you dear as yet you take care.

Kadamba Flowers

Kadamba flowers blooming in the tree

Appear to be the glittering stars in the sky

The glowing sparks with white

Kadambas yellowish covered with softness

You are my love, my dear

Trodden over hundred times by the children with me

Then I knew not the value of you

Now I observe and realize how valuable you are!

When I see you after so many years

Golden touch lurking in the sky

I am under the kadamba tree

I am under the loving care

I am under the kadamba tree

I am under moonlit sky

I am under the kadamba tree

I am under the shady leafy light

Blooming around the tree

In touch of you

Oh softness! My loving dear. 

Torment

My whole body is tormenting

The world seems to be dull and hazy

Smoky all the sights

Where can I resort?

O dear, you are so near so far

So dreamy so real

Face to face I stand I sit down I lie

Swings my head to the loving face

Forms the heart to beat without break

Love you all the elements

You and I like to

I know you don’t see the burning heart

I pass the night living and dying,

Wavers the head and heart

Keeping my hand on the breast

Feel like burning the bricks in the furnace

In the morning while waking up

I see the earth totally hazy

Why dear, came to me and went away

Throwing me in the tormenting darkness?

A Piece of the Moon

You are my piece of the moon

I am the other part

The two makes the one focusing light on the earth

I am the dress of you, you are mine

We are so closed as the seen and the unseen

Both are the fundamental to give us force and sense

We are the one to cope with the world

To walk and run, sleep and dream

Go to the park, come back to home

See the woods and waters

Break the silence of heart and roar together 

We are the invention of the new

To go from one part of the earth to the another

Where there will be no light if one is absent there

Here act all the things that we need for getting together

Passion, emotions, love, sympathy, affection, mutual respect

And what not to move forward with joy and regulation

O sorry, I am going too much

Dear, no time please start.

At  Noon

Its noon and too hot to go out

The scorching sun burns the skin and the whole body

Though it’s the rainy season

In the silence of the noon

The leaves of the trees are oscillating

Suddenly the birds’ call stir me

I see through the window

All the leaves of life

Green lives, some yellowish

But the sound of the cock’s crow

Appears to be the same the years ago

Now I am at the middle of my life

Trembling in the wind outside the room

Thrived the moments bit by bit

Spark on my eyes

My eyes became closed 

I lost myself in sleep

The world waited for some while

It was then come back to light.

Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh

19/06/2018

In a winter night

It was a burning winter night
Falling snow a white in light
It sprinkled on trees all bright
It was an unending smile of delight
A cold wind was blowing from far away,
And it made the trees rustle like living things
Within the winter a spring is promised

She was my muse on that frozen dark
Wrapped me in a blanket of love
And kept my heart warm like a furnace
The warmth of her love revamped me into
A dancing spring with blissful heart
Our lips made for each other
And our bare body melted each other

I was in a fairy land of imagination
To know was nothing at all; but,
To imagine was everything for me
It was wider than the sky; and
It was worth more than I imagine!
I had a universe inside my mind
Where flowers bloomed with ecstasy
Butterflies flied high as kites
Love requires imagination
More than experience
So, I am just an imagination!!!

An ugly hand chasing a butterfly 

It fluttered around the garden
Then gently floated over
And landed on the flower and flirted
It was a beautiful yellow butterfly
The wigs of it kiss the sun when flying high
The strands on it’s wings shimmered!

A flying flower sprouted a few minutes ago
The graceful rise and fall of its dance
Gripped my whole attention and suddenly
It made my heart a caterpillar and
It turned into another butterfly!
It sang a wonderful song of love

Butterflies are angels sent from heaven
To bring us luck, happiness, and riches
They are the embodiment of myth
And, planet’s tragic heroines
No one can chase a butterfly for so long
Yet again an ugly hand chasing it for so long!!!

©-Vijay P Nair -2019

Cat Tales, Kitty Capers by LaVera Edick

Cat Tales, Kitty Capers is a true story of the many antics and personalities of the author’s pets through the years. The first part of the book is the story of an elderly woman named Ruth and the animals she took in and loved. It is about the unconditional love that animals give to us and how they can teach children responsibility by caring for them. She points out the many health benefits that animals can provide to their human benefactors. This is a book that is absolutely perfect for any age group to read. I absolutely loved it. this is a book that will leave you smiling for hours after you read it.

LaVera Edick’s Cat Tales, Kitty Capers is available here from publisher Book Venture. 

Trees Unlimited by Clem Masloff

Trees Unlimited is a suspense novel about a man, Gimel Vexa and his daughter Lea. Gimel is a collector of valuable and rare leaves. He and his daughter are invited to Tochslvania by the plantation owner Mem Samekh. Mem has more sinister plans than to just sell his expensive and rare collection of leaves. Then Thav, Mem’s sister is taken hostage by one of the native aborigines. At this turn of events Gimel Vexa finds out what kind of a person Mem really is. Trees Unlimited will most definitely keep the reader engaged until the end. It is a short book but not short of suspense. Trees Unlimited is a perfect read for teen to adult. I highly recommend it.

Trees Unlimited is available here through publisher Book Venture.

The Great Exhibition: Poem by William Makepeace Thackeray, Victoria and Albert Museum

First of all, especially as this issue fortuitously deals with memories, we need to take some time to remember the life of our past editor and contributor, Tony LeTigre. He passed away suddenly in a car accident Saturday, January 19th. 

He sent poetry and short stories and essays in to this publication over the past several years and created a few editorial letters. His work was nominated multiple times for Sundress Publications’ annual Best of the Net writing awards, and he was also a fellow zine creator and an accomplished oil painter, and an advocate for the homeless. He attempted to turn his peripatetic, impoverished, yet non-materialistic intellectual life into a work of art alongside his written and visual creations.

Here are a few highlights of Tony’s work, here, here, here and here. And an editorial letter which he put together a few years ago.

Memorial gathering is tentatively scheduled for Thursday night, April 4th at St. John’s Episcopal Church on Julian St in San Francisco at 7pm. May change though, please do check back as we will post an updated announcement if needed. You may also email us at synchchaos@gmail.com if you would like to stay in the loop and we will keep you posted.

We are also hosting a general literary gathering for everyone in San Francisco near the end of the month for San Francisco Bay Area locals, and we will keep you posted on that as well.

Now, February 2019’s issue of Synchronized Chaos concerns the telescoping view our psyches can take of our existence and our place in the universe, expanding or contracting time depending on our perspective and stage of life.

Memories and storytelling: how and what we remember

Norman J. Olson opens with a travelogue of his European travels, beginning with a cruise out of Florida, then a visit to the works of Michelangelo, Gaudi, Picasso and Raphael.  Jeff Rasley relates his trek up the Himalayas with enthusiasm for the adventure and appreciation for the people of the region who joined his travels.

Jonathan Butcher shares poetic memories of places of past mental and physical labor: preparing food in a restaurant and processing emotions. J.D. DeHart commemorates the journey into a new year, mourning a loss but yet not looking back to the past. His other pieces involve stepping back and looking at circumstances from a certain distance to gain perspective.

Grief and loneliness, end of life and regret

Michael Robinson brings a vignette concerning a lonely elderly woman he meets while staying in a nursing home, while Joan Beebe writes in a short piece of sighs and memories, grief and nostalgia. 

David Boski writes of old age, grief and loss, as well as the visceral realities of conflict and excretion, while Rajnish Mishra explores similar themes in a less grotesque style, along with concerns about what sort of world to create for his child.

J.J. Campbell again treads the ground of loneliness and disappointment, yet explores sentiment and sentimentality amidst the pain. Ian Copestick speaks to us of lonely, dead times of the week, as well as the personal isolation of poverty.

The often non-linear way our mind processes time 

John Middlebrook probes how the mind comprehends our existence with pieces on various liminal, in between spaces, including dreamtime and evening. He lends the theme to this issue with his piece about seeing the world from the ‘big end of the telescope,’ where the past becomes clear, small and far away enough to organize in one’s mind.

Michael Robinson contributes another piece, another reflection on the nursing home, where time slows down while one is sick or at the end of one’s life.

Our complex and mysterious inner psyche

Alejandra Garzon shapes mixed media photo art to augment a photograph to illustrate the inner life of her characters. Ricky Garni’s surrealistic poems start off one way and go in a completely different direction from what the reader might expect.

In Mark Young’s work, words and lines flow together. The literal meanings of words don’t connect but the phrases and style of writing unify together into a mosaic poem. 

In John Patrick Robins’s piece, an author can’t figure out a book review he receives. It’s not negative, just inexplicable.

Ryan Quinn Flanagan regales us with a set of scattershot vignettes and glimpses into regular life’s quirky moments.

How we figure out who we are, our place in the cosmos

Robert Ragan relates a story about an incompetent, yet enterprising, homeless man. His take on human nature is ironic, as both his homeless and non-homeless characters hold a cynical view of human nature and seek to prove their expectations right.

Ezekiel Jarvis’ piece probes the fine line a police officer has to walk to behave ethically, the constant moral and physical danger of the occupation.

Ivan Jenson gives a humorous look at the mental arithmetic we use to make life decisions, while Elizabeth Hughes, in her Book Periscope column, explores books which invite contemplation of one sort or another. These include Linda Orber and Deborah Simmons-Roslak’s devotional Love, God, Clem Masloff’s psychological sci fi The Amphibiots, Nisha Singh’s Sherlock Holmes’-inspired Bhrigu Mahesh, and Rosa Mae’s poetry collection Reaching Out to Kindred Souls. 

More abstract exploration of the role of humans in the universe, and the role of an individual

Jaylan Salah analyzes Camille Preaker’s character in the HBO series Sharp Objects through a gendered lens. Here is a woman who struggles, who is vulnerable, and is also conventionally attractive, yet without being sexualized for the male gaze.

Allison Grayhurst offers up a long pilgrimage of a piece, about someone learning to connect, forgive, love, and take part in the broader universe. Dan Cardoza writes of the natural world, gardens, hills and weather, and human thoughts and feelings are interwoven into the natural scenes.

Christopher Bernard reviews Eunice Odio’s new poetry collection The Fire’s Journey: Part III – an ambitious oeuvre that encompasses the creation of the world and human, male and female, psychological entities.

Gemini Observatory

It was a mystery to us all.

“Man I’ve had some shit reviews but never one that I couldn’t understand.”

All my friends read it and yet none could explain.

The four star review and the weird ass comment .

We all speculated but this mystery remained unsolved.

The hipster critic and editor had created a legend within itself.

I rather crack a bottle than crack a code.

Some mysteries are best left unsolved.

R.T.C Arthur.

Leonardo da Vinci doesn’t have shit on you.

—

John Patrick Robins 

Is the editor of both the Rye Whiskey Review and Under The Bleachers.

His work has appeared in.

Synchronized Chaos , The San Pedro River Review , The Move River Review , Ariel Chart , Red Fez, Stanzaic Stylings, Angry Old Man Magazine , Horror Sleaze Trash, Outlaw Poetry Network, Piker Press,

He is the author of Smoking At The Gas Pumps published by Soma Publishing .

And A Cold Beer Beats A Warm Heart .

Published by Alien Buddha Press.

His work is always unfiltered.