Ghosts. I absolutely believe in the One interconnected and intraconnected Spirit animating the Universe, and I do call that Spirit God and believe It to be sexually ambiguous and autonomous and all-knowing and self-abnegating: humble yet proud; meek yet all-powerful. Nothing to anybody. Something to everybody. Everything to us all. Who wouldn’t believe in ghosts?…

Crossing Time Each of us different, yet both of us the same for we are a part of the whole, that same fabric woven of history, each in stitch and seam of the other and as you are read by us, so you are with us at that moment and so we are with you,…

You devoured our stories and poems. You are teaching still. —– Two hands resting on your cane. The Godfather of Grammar. —– 12-words Pain in da ass. Writer. Drinker. Da New Yawker stay home now.

This wine took him higher. He never sent the letter.

Darkness is pierced by a penetrating light. The written word.

If you get da kala, Dolly, I get da kine.

Prose rhythms Literary movement Bamboo Ridge

They came to the funeral together. I hadn’t seen either of them since that Super Bowl party at Jimmy’s house. I’d needed a break from that whole group scene after that. It turned into a five-year hiatus. Jimmy looked the same, except he’d had more hair the last time. Brian appeared to have lost fifty…

Bamboo Shoots, stems, leaves, stalks, groves.

Bamboo Ridge Lum Chock Heart Soul Lum and Chock founded Bamboo Ridge Press. Happily ever after.