Fractured and missing pieces, I decided to buy the framed tile anyway. It bore this single word, “Grace.” The clerk tried to talk me out of it, saying she’d send someone back to find a better one. I told her no, that it was perfect as is. She frowned at me and tried again to…

Tongue in God’s ear, a true story… We have had a thermal inversion over the area the past few days leading to pogonip. Pogonip, known more widely elsewhere as hoar frost, hangs low to the ground, thick and blinding in some areas, patchy and thin in others. Buddy and I went out for a walk…

Where Chance O’Gregory was sneaking off to each evening, I had to find out, and so I pretended to be asleep when he slipped from our cabin and started up the hillside towards our claim. My colleague had the same idea as he rolled from his cot, fully dressed as well. Quietly, we followed O’Gregory…

I drink coffee because if I didn’t, I’d be like a two-year-old with his blankie in the wash.

He is one of those Virginy City folk who picks a person whose lot he thinks is a lump of coal, then goes to work, figuring out a way to make their Christmas special. This year Alibi Ames had Brutus Howl in his sights, whose job it is to write about the goings-on of the…

Insomnia is jus’ another word for things you forgot to think of earlier in the day.

I had to get up and get going after realizing that today’s bad decisions needed my help.

Lander and Elko Counties in Nevada are talking about replacing equipment manufactured by Dominion Voting Systems. It comes amid ongoing concerns about tampering and fraud that evidence, wholly ignored by the media and political elites, tying the equipment to Venezuela and George Soros. And like a good lapdog, the Associated Press got out front of…

It was “Take Your Child to Work Day,” and I got permission to participate. We walked into the office, and I showed my son my cubical, my desk and then gave him a tour around the building, where he met all of my co-workers. We returned to my cubical, letting him sit in my seat…

From the most recent file box I’ve been sorting through, I found what might be the very first poem I ever wrote. My 10-year-old handwriting is such that I cannot tell if it is dated March 5 or May 5, 1971. Poor Peter Cotton Tail Robbed mother’s garden He went to county jail Meat pie…