About This Author
He lives alone in a small house in a forested valley among skunk and cowbell weeds, trumpet flowers, and cigarette limb oaks.
His writing twists and turns like bent iron and you never know where he will take you but for some strange reason time goes by and you discover yourself with a fresh arrangement to your thoughts.
His writing is descriptive and imaginative, lively like squirming toad in your underwear. He won’t hold back on making you say sadly that his stories are over.