Alex Starke is a graduate of the University of Oregon with a degree in Medieval Studies and a minor in Early Modern European History. He met his wonderful wife, Anne, while singing in the Johann Strauss operetta, Die Fledermaus. He and Anne currently reside in Eugene, Oregon with their Pack of Jack Russell terriers. Alex …
Gratitude: Thor, my heart and soul | By Alexander G Starke Read More »
Alex Starke is a graduate of the University of Oregon with a degree in Medieval Studies and a minor in Early Modern European History. He met his wonderful wife, Anne, while singing in the Johann Strauss operetta, Die Fledermaus. He and Anne currently reside in Eugene, Oregon with their Pack of Jack Russell terriers. Alex …
Daniel sat on his daughter’s suede couch facing an enormous television. It stood at the far end of the living room blocking an old brick fireplace. What a damned shame about that fireplace, he thought taking a sip of bourbon, When I was a kid, this house always had a roaring fire going this time …
If I could make music out of these words I would be achieving all I’ve dreamed of The pulsing rhythm of an iambic pentameter acting as a kick drum Making you feel the vibrations in your chest But I can’t turn this one into an organized and pleasantly rhythmed 3 and a half minute song …
They arrived one day, without warning, without any hesitation. Bastards in giant white pickup trucks with giant pictures saying Green Forestry on the side drove onto my land, my beautiful land with hundreds of trees with hundreds of years of age. They marched into my forest and started planning the removal of my trees. I …
When it’s quiet, I climb through my bedroom window out into the early October night. I hold a bottle of my dad’s dark brown beer in one hand while pulling myself onto the roof. I wobble from one foot to the other and sit down. I begin taking small, timid sips of the beer trying …
“Another song!” the old king brays as the weary bard then sighsIn a sing-song way, the troubadours say“Performance or demise.” The drummer drums his numbing thumbs,and the harpist’s knuckles crack.The lutist plays through painful daze,his hands gone raw and black. Each note he breeds, his fingers bleed;his strings snap with a twang.He spoke to curse this …
