"An unbelievable journey by a voice that is rarely seen or heard. JD has to be one of the best wordsmiths that has graced the page in a generation. Don't miss the opportunity to walk his streets." RiverRat Review
Excerpt
Towers, Cards & Symphony
Heart built upon a tower of cards...spluttering....dueces running rampant...one-eyed jacks falling upon wayward swords....Queens and Kings breaking open dirges against the inevitibility of sacrifice....Aces gathering amongst themselves plotting rebellion....Hearts disappearing against a deluge of Spades.....Diamonds isolating with airs and talks of elitism...Clubs chanting prayers to the coming bloodshed in the crumbling of love....
A minstrel strums these images into a swirling mealstrom of circumstance...how love is a metaphor to opening oneself to a blade slipping beneath notice....to a symphony of sorrow coealescing within the confines of a chest....
Her words draw crayon cave paintings of romance and an embracing of flesh in statuesque tribute to paramours worldwide but her movements...her actual shooting of tongue into the crevice of limbs artfully sculpting acrimony in the stomping of spirits tells another sordid tale.....one of cracked sidewalks and ghost towns holding broken promises as stop signs.....the sillouettes of dreams haunting lonely streets......caterwhauling about the likelyhood of dissolution within the dead end avenues of holding to belief....
Red lights flash hovels in the wanton brothels of demure eyes hiding shy soulless glides into the treaties of hollow lies.....and the minstrel's strumming chords come to a slow low fading sound....his body leaning desperate and alone....limp and drained against the thin walls of a tumbleweed saloon....empty and irrseolute to the charms of a heart, his lids drooping to unheard of incriminations of trust once again measured against the proliferation of lust over the merits of love......
The lights darken upon the town....shadows scrawling their indifferent melodies, the tower of cards long ago traversed to dust on a melancholy wind....and the music... no longer a viable road to relate a symphony that has no meaning nor ever did....a lonley man bereft of hope stares vacantly into the deepening of night....his fingers tapping murals to nothing and noone.....
Using Calgary as a backdrop the author satirizes the self-serving nature of the public as it continues to fatten itself, not only physically, but egotistically as well.
