A new Ezekiel Grate Adventure is now available.

Read The Case of the Slipped Memorize!

Amazon.com: The Case of the Slipped Memorize (An Ezekiel Grate Adventure) eBook: Bruce J. Berger: Kindle Store

Waiting Out the Storm: October 28, 2012 — A Poem (Revised)

Yellow and orange lines track the march of tides and violence
Winds that spiral towards the citadel of justice whose hulking
Mass of concrete and glass bravely faces the approaching storm.

The onslaught of nature pressing its way attacking without remorse
As malignant cells march through one’s body digging into bone
The darkening sky outside and the bitter whipping of air

Because It Does: A Poem

life extends because it does/the robin who learned to create an egg/ is still with us today but / flowers that did not seek themselves to seed/ vanish beyond memory

we breed in cells that figure/ the secret of the ages secreting/     mirrors of their souls to link/ atoms each to each of necessity/        for which they are preordained

Waiting Out the Storm: A Poem from a Trial in Long Island, NY, October 28, 2012

Yellow and orange lines track the march of tides and violence

Winds that spiral towards the citadel of justice whose hulking

Mass of concrete and glass faces towards the approaching storm.

 

The onslaught of nature pressing its way attacking without remorse

As malignant cells march through one’s body digging into bone

The darkening sky outside and the bitter whipping of air

What is a son-in-law good for?

Well, the truth is just about everything.

Who else is going to find my missing story on my computer and restore it to health (or at least to its pre-disappearance status)?

Who else is going to humor me by accompanying my wife, daughter, and me to Nationals games, even if we have to hold his eyes open with toothpicks?

Who else is going to know how to save us money by (a) replacing the lock on our front door himself, (b) fixing the window on our side door himself, and (c) doing a million other things around our house out of the goodness of his heart?

Who else is going to drive out to the batting cages at Rocky Gorge with me, so that I can have company when I practice my swings, and in doing so prove to me that he can hit the balls farther and more often than I can?

Who is else is going to make my daugther as happy as she can be?

The answer to all of the questions above is: no one.

The Disappearing Act

Sometimes your computer tries to tell you something.  Maybe something you don’t really want to hear.  Maybe it’s something you need to hear, however.

So my computer has appeared to cause my latest novel-in-progress to disappear, claiming that it cannot find what I’ve worked on and saved many times over.  A writer with more computer savvy might have found the story by now, lurking in a corner of my hard drive’s virtual space, the computer laughing so hard at its game of hide and seek that the quote marks are flying off the story and the megabytes are scrambled like so many eggs in an omelet.  But my computer knows I’m not the savvy type.  It’s really trying to send me a message.  It’s trying to tell me that I need to start over or, worse, give up the project entirely.

I protest against this unsolicited editorial control.  The computer cannot look into my mind to see the great ways I plan to develop my characters further. 

Ezekiel Grate is going to be a daddy and thus headed into Holy Matrimony, if he will only agree with his true love, Abigail Oode, that he will convert to Judaism.

Abigail will have to make a decision shortly as to when to give up exotic dancing.  Can she keep up with her act long enough to further Grate’s career objectives?

Abigail’s long-lost father has resurfaced, assigned to the Egyptian Embassy in D.C., wanting to resume a paternal relationship with his Israeli daughter.

Criminal defendant attorney, Theresa Hadley, Grate’s boss, heads to trial to defend Mo, accused of the fire-bombing at Eastern Market, but she’s threatened by a bizarre attack, her life in danger because of her prior work with the criminal element.

Grate tries to figure out how to help Theresa, stay one step ahead of the law, keep Abigail happy, prepare for fatherhood, and figure out what it means to convert to Judaism. 

Now, Dear Computer, what’s wrong with all that?  Certainly there’s enough material there that you might have been mildly amused, even if not overwhelmed.  You know, you’re only one step from the electronic equipment junk heap.  I could unplug you and carry you to my car right now and head up the MontgomeryCounty landfill.  Have you thought about that?  Is that what you want?

So, please find my story-in-progress right now.  As an added incentive, I promise to work into the story a distant relative of yours.  My DEC Rainbow sits in my attack waiting patiently for the time that it becomes an antique and I can sell it for more than I paid for it.  That should be in about 50 years.  If you give me back my story, I will make the DEC Rainbow a character.

Deal?

Newtown: Two Poems

An Unfamiliar Voice

An unfamiliar voice stabs at my heart/

Begging me to drop everything and run/

Faster than a bullet to my son’s school/

Or quicker than automatic guns can/

Deaden the life of a beautiful girl/

Or before the innocent smiles fade/

As they face down into hot pools of blood/

I drop the phone, my fingers numb, and stoop/

To make sure I’ve heard correctly the news/

That sears into my brain, stripping my soul

 

To a Politician

No one shares our grief

Tears of tragedy

Flowing down do not

Make you one of us

Promises delayed

Fixes thrown away

Speak so much louder

 

None can understand

Your abandonment

Of our children

Our sons and daughters

Who might have been saved

Your tears may be real

A sign of your guilt