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ENRIQUE! PERFORMANCE ARTIST
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SAM THE SPIRITS GEEK!
BLACK 1940'S AMERICA
INTERVIEW JOHN INGRAM DRUMMER OF THE CIRCLE JERKS
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MAMA TILA'S THAI HOME COOKING
DTLAL POET LAUREATE: GAYLE SLATEN
CATHERINE CHEVREAU - FRANCE
THE CONNECTICUT MUSE: SUZANNE CAREY
AMY STEWART HALE - ARTIST INTERVIEW
ARNO ANDREY: FRANCE
BY INVITATION: GUEST CREATIVES
HINDENBURG:
GUSTAV MAHLER
KOREATOWN
UK & EUROPEAN UNION BUREAU
NEAL TURNER, ARTIST - FRANCE
BEHZAD BAGHERI ARTIST IRAN
JENN VILETTA: FASCISM IS...
SAGA: UNAUTHORIZED DTLA HISTORY
HISTORICAL POSTER ART: Vietnamese Patriotic Front
WPA POSTER ART: LESSER KNOWN EXAMPLES
OUR RUSSIAN HISTORICAL HERITAGE
DPRK REVEALED
DAVID SKYRIE, ARTIST, CANADA
SLAVERY IN AMERICA
TOM STONE: A WITNESS IN PURGATORY
MAGAZINE COMMENTS
A NEW TASTE
EXHIBITS!
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ECOSPHERE RESOURCES
BRIAN BROWN: SOUTHERN HERITAGE
A KENTUCKY STORY
VICTORIAN WOMEN OF COLOR
MAPPLETHORPE & WAGSTAFF
SHARON MARIE TATE
NEW POETS! POETRY CONNECTION
A GAY GANGSTERS' LIFE
REMEMBERING RAY BRADBURY
BIG PHARMA & PAINKILLERS DR. DON NOYES MORE Ph.D


"Jerry is a rare find of a storyteller. He connects so many emotions and challenges of life. I am so grateful he has come our way!"
Dr. Don Noyes-More Ph.D.

AND THEN THERE IS POETRY!

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A dark, empty club with tables surrounding a dance floor.

The crowd gone. By now in bed, dreaming of conquest and failure.

Robbie, still behind the bar drying the last few glasses. He didn't even notice I was still there, alone and quiet in the shadows with my gin.

He turned his back, flipped a switch, and the lights faded.

Only the green exit sign shined dim in the darkness.

A match flickered. The light briefly encircled his face, then dissolved.

A glowing ember floated in the darkness. Bright, cherry red, as he inhaled long and deep.

Then the small red cinder floated down and disappear behind the bar.

A moment later it returned and the silence of the room filled with the sound of strings and Etta James was everywhere. 

She sang, “At Last……My Love has come along. My lonely days are over…and life is like a song.”

The red glow revolved and spun as it glided toward the end of the bar and out to the dance floor.

It waltzed and flowed in syncopated motion across the room, became one with the music.

Then behind the ember was a ghost, washed by faint green light from the exit sign.

The door opened and the phantom, haloed by silver from the full moon, disappeared outside following the red speck from his smoke.  

The door swung shut, blocked the moonlight and left nothing but the faint glimmer of green and the profusion of music.

Moments later, the sound of a key in the lock and the click of tumblers seemed to snap like distant thunder.

I sat in the shadows, quiet and composed, with Etta there to relieve the emptiness as she offered her final words:

“You smiled. And then the spell was cast. And here we are in heaven. For you are mine….at last.”

The sound of strings faded to silence.  I gazed into the darkness, sipped my gin, and became one with the end.

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