… and run over by eight hours of traffic, while people watched and laughed.
If you have ever driven the I-10 in SoCal you’ll understand how the combination of the above can be both fatal and very, very painful. Also, I don’t think anyone watches and laughs – this type of thing isn’t exactly news in SoCal.
My e-chapbook “The Coachella Madrigals”, about love and loss in a hot, dry place, is now available to read at Firefly Magazine/Luminous Press. You can read it Here.
I wrote these poems some time ago and submitted them as a chapbook to a conventional print publisher who had indicated that they would accept them but that they were having some issues and needed to defer publication to a later date. I was free to submit elsewhere if I needed to. (If that seems … odd … let me tell you that this happens in the minor leagues of publishing.) They subsequently ceased to operate, leaving a few small chapbooks out there (not this one) and a few new enemies who spoke ill of them on Twitter. I then submitted to the Firefly/Luminous people who graciously accepted. It took a while to format for print/get the project going but here they are.
The picture used with the chapbook is mine – it really is “Marigolds on my Front Doorstep, June 2016”. I have always liked it. I do not live in/near Coachella but let me tell you this about the Coachella Valley: It’s hot. I’m not sure Marigolds would last on a doorstep in the Coachella Valley. I’m not sure anything lasts on doorsteps in the Coachella Valley. If you ever do get to that neck of the woods you owe to yourself to take the tram to the top of Mt. Jacinto and look down into the valley and watch all of those people roasting slowly in the heat.
I’ll be back with some more writing soon. In the interim y’all stay off of people’s doorsteps. It’s weird. You should stay at home, crank up Cheap Trick’s “Never Had a Lot To Lose” (The live version on the “Silver” recording is my go-to version) and read The Coachella Madrigals.