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Ghost in the Reflection-Letters to Erin will be offered on Amazon as a free ebook today, tomorrow and Wednesday. So if you haven’t already purchased it, well, you’re not going to get a much better price. I hope to see a large score of e-books given away over these next few days. That’s my big promo for the week, but wait there’s more.
A featured review of Ghost appeared today, Monday, September 21 on Cheryl Holloway’s blog. That can be checked out from right here. As always, Cheryl does a great job capturing the essence of the story and provides a thorough interview.
Friday this week, an interview with Julie Morris for Friday night Drinks on the A Little Book Problem blog. Definitely be sure to check out this interview, it’s the most fun I’ve had doing one yet. I hope it’ll give you more of an insight into my mind.
Now mind you, all this is a distraction to keep you from asking about the e-book only chapbook coming out on Friday, November 13, 2020 Bottom Feeder… It’s going to be a bit more on the dark side, a little less optimistic, but as boldly reality as one dares to recreate. This is the bottom, the bottom of the barrel, the rock bottom. That loneliness that incapacitates the mind, that defeat without any light anywhere to be found. Hopelessness. Despair. Where it feels losing is the only option remaining. Addiction overcoming. Where the hail and blazing fires begin to feel homelike in comfort. Beyond the breaking point of most mortal men, a point of no return for too many. This is my descent, unfiltered.
an excerpt from a pause (a pulse)
this is the comedown,
that raw jerk of the body,
a pure emotion.
shaking down to the core,
falling to hurt knees.
we cannot stand to not stand,
but how long can one fight
before it is acceptable to call it amendable.
the addiction is an ever-escaping flea
journeying across the galaxy, stirring up the itch
that is felt from within, beneath
exhale, just breathe
just breathe, you are only weak.
do not call it a defeat.
find your center, one’s balance only becomes
from the instability of taking a chance.
I tear away the flesh
with each stretch of my fingertips,
that itch spreading inch by inch.
I peel away the realizations
of a reality that I hurt to again greet.
I am an addict.
I will ache to remind myself I am alive
in that descending downwards climb
from the happiness above the clouds.
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