Author Archives: Jeff Stewart

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Loss of Shadows

…the love for the written word and the sun-torn highways flush with mountains and small stations, a cup of hot coffee next to my typewriter, the feeling of life warm down my arms, is no longer real to me. It’s … Continue reading

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Sunday in Venice

We walked toward the ocean. “No hippies for Papi?” “I hate those motherfuckers.” “Same here.” We stood at the edge of the dry sand. The water was from everywhere, from places and times unknown to God and Darwin. All the … Continue reading

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Take your medicine.

He postured himself like a gorilla, and it sickened me. Then he took a swing. I ducked it, and he lost balance. Before Gus could make it over the bar I was on top of him, landing blows in his … Continue reading

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One Night in Austin.

Conversation with my favorite clerk in Austin the night before I leave town: “Just the beer?”                                                     “That’s right.” My buddy grabs the six pack, opens the door and lights a cigarette. I grab a Nutty Bar and toss it on … Continue reading

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Three Dogs and a Woman, or In Defense of Stephen King

I wrote the following short story in my hotel room just now and posted it right to the site without looking it over once. The thing with writing, as any writer will tell you, is that it’s not just writing, … Continue reading

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Dead Poets Sobriety

Sitting here in my hotel room, going over some files from the last 20 years or so. It’s been a long time since I’ve read any of these, and looking over these files, especially the poems, I’m called back to … Continue reading

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Brains and blood.

All the death and sunshine of death, the rains that bring down the fires, the low slip into the shadows of waste. Born to run the hills, born to walk the city looking for something that will turn a boy … Continue reading

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Breaking the broken air.

  Rotting on a rape charge no, rotting on four of them. rotting from the work of a reader who was not sound I won trial hands down, but that being said, I had to rot in county jail for … Continue reading

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Uncles of Anarchy

  We hauled ass up Scottsdale Road. The heat laid a blanket of death across the desert, and we poured sweat past Indian School. I hadn’t seen them in 25 years. We’d just hammered through Old Town, stopped a few … Continue reading

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