SONG OF THE RUSHES
PREVIEWS OF COMING ATTRACTIONS
So many books to write, so little time.
Song of the Rushes is a series of short novels, essays, and anecdotes that may sometimes seem a little strange, like a flock of birds that suddenly all cease their chirping at once and leave you wondering what brought about the eerie silence. I admit to having become mesmerized by the language, imagery, and pathos in great English fantasy novelists. A particular inspiration for a few of my stories will be found among the reeds of a marsh on the edge of a secret pond--usually accessible only by a child and by way of a raft made from the branches of trees tied together with twine. From the realm of dragonflies and song-birds, the progeny of a wood-nymph have evolved in a way that self preserving thought-forms couple and separate with a sentience and intelligently designed desire to explore. She is akin to the elf folk who seek to be among us (even sometimes take on the human form, appear to be a stranger walking down the sidewalk, yet strangely familiar) or simply fly invisible over the fields and lay with fallen leaves and exposed roots under a tree among the moss and mushrooms on a forest floor. If, however, I were to consider my work deserving of comparison to the tree itself, as I hope it would be, I must embrace a few other life forms that would be attached: Spores of fungus, vines (some of them with berries, some poisonous), insects (invasive and interwoven with cooperative and ulterior motives), birds to eat the insects, and squirrels to scamper about--help spread the seeds around; all these beings move with an intimacy that is blind and close and cruel as hunger, comic as the clumsiness in lust. Yet, even I, the presumed dreamer of tragic lovers and their relationships, cannot comprehend all the subtlety of these plays within plays.
Besides the novels currently available for sale through my sites, I will preview works in final draft that will be free to read in their entirety at
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michaeldnordhart.com
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I always try to toss at least a dollar or two into the collection plate. A token, for show, since I am just getting started. But truly, more will come. I promise.
MICHAEL D. NORDHART
I look out the window of my apartment at mysterious trees. The fluid movement of a cat is visible. It walks among the tall grass, then sits--perfectly still, as if posing for an ink drawing. The sparrows fling themselves about. They glide in changing orbits around and above the trees. They chatter of the cat's presence. The cat, with an eternal patience, ignores them; contemplates, instead, the interior of a bush--far more interested in its access to a completely unaware mouse.
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I am not so at one. Devious in my humanity, I am, I confess (not that it matters), in a state of sin. I commit in my heart the prideful fantasy of a sentimental inner utopia and bear false witness to the world--being secret of my intent, appearing to be a shy poet hiding in a bedroom. It is what I don't say that is most dangerous. Though I try to balance the Zen poet and crazy recluse evenly, when the berserker warrior is roused and attempts to speak the truth, suddenly and to my surprise, it has not always had the spiritual quality of a life affirming satirist.
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My ancestors are mostly from Scandinavia, Great Britain, and Northern Europe.
Somehow or other, a persona that I call myself was born in Arkansas, graduated from high school in Iowa, attended a four year college, did some theater in Nebraska, then got lost and wandered around a lot.
THE WRATH OF KALI
As companion to the novel, A Relatively Harmless Dialogue, the casual other worldly atmosphere of The Wrath of Kali introduces the reader to the absurdity in our assumption: That we live in a solid universe. In this vehicle of a very short fantasy, I hope to take you as my captive audience into where we assume we are awake, but may be as much in a dream as the concepts of predestination and free will are satirical in their absurdity. Even the most serious philosophies break down like particles into waves when confronted by what is happening--which, by the way, is not a concept.
Available on Amazon.
A DUSTY AND SUN LIT SORT OF PLACE
A cowboy without a horse has become a transient without a job, stranded in a tourist trap town high up in the mountains. He seems to be a little crazy to the store owner who strikes up a conversation with him. Both men experience a pleasant afternoon of story telling and strong black coffee.
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Currently available at Amazon.
HELLO DARKNESS
Running away, she meets her fears and a stranger who is kind. A poem is read to her in sweet sorrow of parting. Again and again its words return as a remnant of memory to be hidden in a night forest of a recurring dream.
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Not yet published, hopefully inside of a couple months.
A RELATIVELY HARMLESS DIALOGUE
Knowing we will eventually leave the illusory comfort of our Newtonian universe, should we not consider taking a seat on the park bench and observe the show as it unfolds before us? But of course, our inquisitive nature will inspire us to continue our sojourn, during which we might happen onto a conversation of eccentric professors on a Saturday afternoon picnic. Drawn to their odd presence, we listen to the curious debate between the good intentioned and the wizened. We follow their stream of conflicting, intertwining competitions that attempt to merge, then separate, yet remain miraculously at one while dividing into their individual branches of random diversity.
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Currently available at Amazon
RADIANCE OF A SILVER ARROW
Part one of The Color of the Sun
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The first volume of a trilogy. Finished, but will need the usual assumed last re-write into final draft.
