Saul was the love of my life. We met at a writer’s colony outside Dallas Texas right after my junior year in college. It was an annual summer long conference for aspiring young writers and we were in the same open critique group. The first thing I remember was a piece that he had written … Continue reading The Chapter I Try To Forget

A man comes undone Fake: The absence of substance -The abyss- I’m a Wasteland of An American Tragedy Run amiss Societies questioning me While I’m pleading the fifth Grasping the truth in the mist     I ‘m running from life Like it stabbed me in the lungs wit’ a knife Gasping bloody breaths As … Continue reading # Back Of The Book

I never the met the guy. I was in Poor Richard’s book store in the Springs a few days ago and bought a copy of Jack Kerouac’s “On the road.”  There was old folded piece of paper with a barely legible poem. It was signed simply: Saul.   Sometimes, he sits alone. He sits like … Continue reading Chapter 4

Saul was something else. I didn’t know him well. Then again no one knew him. So I suppose I knew him more than anyone. Never understood him though. He was remarkably simple. He didn’t like where he was, so he ran. Easy. He was running from himself. Easy. He was running towards himself. Complicated. I’m … Continue reading Chapter 3

It has been quite a long time since I saw him; maybe six or seven years ago. I was a different person back then…we were different back then. We were young and full of excitement. The world was our oyster so to speak. We had both just arrived in New York and were ready to … Continue reading Chapter 2

My son, Saul, was the pride of the family. He was the not quite the son everyone wanted, but the son that you would be proud to have. He was an extraordinary boy, as all of my children were then. He was bright, kind, gentle and incredibly introspective. When he was younger he never talked, … Continue reading Chapter One

I have a story to write. Well, I suppose it is not story per se. Seeing as how it neither started nor ended and chronology doesn’t much matter not to mention that there isn’t any plot and I’m only writing my own thoughts on this page and every other page is from someone else.  I … Continue reading Prologue

I am who I am. the depths of my soul are indescribable, indestructible and ever changing. My dimensions extend definition So no language made by meager men could tell you who I am. I must be lived, loved, and experienced to be understood.   So seek for me outside the cave; philosophizing on mountain top … Continue reading ?