"Hook," by James Wright

Crime Novel Set in the Sierra

My first published novel was also my first published crime, or detective, novel.  It is set in a small county in the Sierra Nevada of California.  It's called THREE TO GET READY.  Here's how little I knew about the inner workings of the mystery/crime/detective genre back then: When I got a copy of a favorable review of the book, I noticed that the reviewer called it a "procedural," which refers to a crime novel in which the detective/protagonist is a professional.  As my protagonist is a sheriff, my novel is a "procedural."  I said to my wife, "Honey, I wrote a 'procedural'!"

Anyway, the novel is now available at what I imagine to be a reasonable price--$3.95--on Kindle:

http://www.amazon.com/Three-To-Get-Ready-ebook/dp/B007QMHUSA/ref=sr_1_cc_1?s=aps&ie=UTF8&qid=1333329396&sr=1-1-catcorr

"Destiny," by Oktay Rifat

"At A Bach Concert," by Adrienne Rich

"Morning at the Window," by T.S. Eliot

"Pronouns," by Dunya Mikhail

Red: A Book: 82. Lois And The Greatness of American Poetry

Red: A Book: 82. Lois And The Greatness of American Poetry: Lois read where some noted assessor of poetry had opined that American poetry was in danger of losing its "greatness.' She was relieved to ...

Red: A Book: 188. Meatloaf Writers Conference

Red: A Book: 188. Meatloaf Writers Conference: At the Meatloaf Writers Conference, famous authors call each other by nicknames and speak in complacent ironies. A homeless man sneaks int...

Red: A Book: 139. She Was Just Out of the Bath

Red: A Book: 139. She Was Just Out of the Bath: Not long out of the bath, she wore a robe. She sat back in their favorite chair, expansive and plush, and he sat on the floor, painting her ...

Red: A Book: 136. Hiram Muses Priapically

Red: A Book: 136. Hiram Muses Priapically: Hiram found himself moved to muse on his phallus. He, too, thought the subject tedious, and yet there he was, musing on it. Hiram's cock h...

On the Death of Icons

 for C.M


The ones who helped to stitch together
the fabric of your world--
maybe they sang and strummed,
played games professionally,
acted, stood in the hell of politics
speaking of heaven, wrote a poem
or book you fell into, or by some other
means told you who you were and
weren't.  When another one of these goes

over the falls that drop into no pool forever,
you find yourself in a narrow canyon, all
alone, as bewildered as a child, increasingly
indifferent to the path that leads
you out of there.

"Final Notations," by Adrienne Rich

"An April Day," by Joseph S. Cotter, Jr.