Prepare to dive into a world of enigmatic intrigue, where the lines between reality and absurdity blur, and where truth is stranger than fiction. If you've ever questioned who's really in control—the government or the citizens—this book is your thought-provoking journey. In these pages, you'll encounter a cast of unforgettable characters, each with a story as unique as their names: Mabel Sanger, who ran out of time; Gusta, who died from the generosity of others; and Thomas Jefferson Roosevelt, desperate to send an unusual clock to a Senator. As you navigate this surreal landscape, you'll find yourself pondering the ultimate showdown between Civillains and Psyclopians, a conflict that will challenge your understanding of power, identity, and society itself. In a narrative that seamlessly blends the ordinary with the extraordinary, you'll uncover tales that will have you scratching your head and wondering if the author might have been on to something. Imagination is a powerful force, and within these pages, it's unleashed to its fullest potential. Can you decipher the hidden truths that lie beneath the surface of these bizarre stories? Join us on a mind-bending journey where the unexpected becomes the norm, and where every page holds the potential to make you question the world as you know it. Are you ready to explore a world where imagination knows no bounds and the quest for understanding never truly ends? If you are a fan of George Orwell, you will love this book. Excerpt: As Mabel Marie bounced through the smoky doors of the LaSalle Building, a cicada landed in the uppermost region of her tall hair. And when I say tall hair, I mean Texas-sized hair with blond locks where the bees get lightheaded flying in and around the hive. A mute in a tattered coat and missing his fingers on his right hand, except his middle finger, pointed and sputtered at her head. He sprinkled Mabel Marie's blue suit coat with spittle. She reciprocated with a rude gesture. His face turned purple, and he stabbed at her furiously with his one finger. "You too, buddy," Mabel Marie said as she continued down New Hampshire Avenue. She dug in her handbag found a wad of Kleenex and dabbed her sleeve. She looked around as she crossed Constitution Avenue. The man stared at her. Mabel Marie kept on down the street. She wondered whether the Director was somehow mixed up in this nuttiness. He was the kind of man who would stoop as low as a Texas rattlesnake, Mabel Marie thought. Excerpt: As Mabel Marie bounced through the smoky doors of the LaSalle Building, a cicada landed in the uppermost region of her tall hair. And when I say tall hair, I mean Texas-sized hair with blond locks where the bees get lightheaded flying in and around the hive. A mute in a tattered coat and missing his fingers on his right hand, except his middle finger, pointed and sputtered at her head. He sprinkled Mabel Marie's blue suit coat with spittle. She reciprocated with a rude gesture. His face turned purple, and he stabbed at her furiously with his one finger. "You too, buddy," Mabel Marie said as she continued down New Hampshire Avenue. She dug in her handbag and found a wad of Kleenex and dabbed her sleeve. She looked around as she crossed Constitution. The man stared at her. Mabel Marie kept on down the street. She wondered whether the Director was somehow mixed up in this nuttiness. He was the kind of man who would stoop as low as a Texas rattlesnake, Mabel Marie thought.

1987 PEN/Discovery Prize Winner selected by Joyce Carol Oates. In the sizzling era of the New Edition, when icons like Prince and Michael Jackson reigned supreme, Hattiesburg, Mississippi was a picturesque, mostly crime-free town. But all that changed in the mid-1980s when the shadow of gangs and drugs descended upon its streets. Still, even in the midst of chaos, love can bloom. Meet Della, a young teenage girl whose heart becomes ensnared by a member of the infamous "Folks" gang, known as "Cheeseburger." However, Cheeseburger remains oblivious to Della's infatuation, while her schoolgirl innocence and boundless imagination lead her into a world of daydreams where they are madly in love. Yet, her imagined romance is as fickle as her emotions. On some days, she despises him, the gang, and the very ground they walk on, aligning herself with her mother's concerns. But, as she candidly puts it, "Then I saw Cheeseburger's arms and fell back in love with him." Embark on an emotional rollercoaster of unrequited love and hate as you follow Della's gripping journey. This poignant story, a 1987 PEN/Discovery Prize winner personally selected by the renowned Joyce Carol Oates, will immerse you in a world where love transcends the boundaries of circumstance and danger, ultimately revealing the profound impact it has on Della's life. Excerpt The week that I wasn't in love with Cheeseburger I called him and them other boys dogs, and Mama seemed happy with me. We talked about what a shame it was them thugs, from up north were comin' down south, bringin' that dope with 'em, and breakin' into people's houses. Everybody on the block was gettin' burglar bars and bad dogs. Hattiesburg was hirin' more police. It was just a shame, me and Mama agreed. Then I saw Cheeseburger's navel and fell back in love with him. And Mama started fussin' at me 'cause I was a girl and not a boy. She said I was drawin' them nigguhs to her fence like shit draws flies. My Mama said that to me. And no matter how much I looked like I was ignorin' those boys (I really was ignorin' ol' Polo Mack), she fussed more. Even when they didn't paint the moon and stars on her fence, she fussed. Please enjoy other stories included with this awarding winning piece.

In 'The Road to Astroworld,' a haunting narrative unfolds through a series of letters sent by Promise Goodday, a woman confined to a mental institution for a tragic act. Addressed to her childhood friend, Lakeisha Ann, these letters unveil a harrowing twenty-year journey within the confines of Rust Hills, a place marred by drugs, questionable therapies, and unspeakable abuse, including the torment from an individual she cryptically refers to as 'Big Fingers.' These poignant missives serve as a searing, yet occasionally darkly humorous chronicle of Promise's life at Rust Hills. As readers delve into her correspondence, they must ponder whether escape and redemption are attainable in the end. And, nestled within the recesses of Promise's heart, lies the enigmatic Astroworld—Is it a tangible escape or a whimsical dreamland guiding her on 'The Road to Astroworld'? Excerpt: Dear LaKeisha Ann: I think Big Fingers is a woman, or at least has had woman hands transplanted at the ends of his bull shouldered arms. I mean his fingers know my snatch better than my own fingers. They don't fumble. My Charlie the pussy Doctor, fumbled and was very clinical with me. But this man gets to the heart of the matter as he strokes me. And in my moaning I forget about the purple wounds on my ass that he has inflicted. Love, Promise Dear LaKeisha Ann: Lord, lord, if I were a beast, I would rip Big Fingers's heart out and eat it. You would think this man was on a period the way he swells and bellows toward the end of the month. He sent another girl to the infirmary. He beat Collette because she forgot how to spell her name. She wrote "'Let'" on her medicine sign-out sheet. She didn't really forget how to spell her name, but you know how it is to be seventeen. You wake up one morning and decide that you want a new name. Big Fingers told her to write "Collette Smith" on the form. She insisted on 'Let.' His blistering coaxial cable did not make her change her mind. If she dies, I hope death does not rob her of her spirit. I will buy her a tombstone and have "LET" chiseled into its granite face. Love, Promise PS. What's new with you? Dear LaKeisha Ann: we had a bad storm here yesterday. The rain battered the windows like a shower of fists--mens' fists. I screamed at the men. Girl, I screamed at them and cursed their Mamas. They started up the bus to drown out my screams. But, baby, I out-screamed their buses. finally they sent in Big Mama to point her finger at me. I came close to biting her finger off at the root, and sucking her until all that was left of her was bitter and dry. But I didn't bite Big Mama. the rain, I woke up in shackles. I think Big Fingers shackles us girls just so he can get a chance to touch our pussies. When you come out here, I'm going to introduce you to Big Fingers in case you're in the market for a husband. kiss them grandbabies. Love, Promise

With hard work and good luck, David "Big Nose" Calloway navigates Houston's Jim Crow era and civil rights achievements to become a member of the once segregated Walnut Grove Country Club. There, he meets Jonathan Knapp a fellow businessman. Jonathan tries hard to befriend David. However, David remains aloof and distant. Will Jonathan's anger at being rejected send him on a quest for revenge and expose a secret both men share? Excerpt: The leg was good luck to David. It kept him out of the army during WWII. Army Doctor smiled at the big black shirtless boy thick as a chifferobe. Then he smiled at David's bulging crotch. "That nigger is packing a sack of walnuts there!" David stood with his pants around his ankles. The doctor nodded at his left leg big as a phone post. However, the doctor's smile vanished, when he looked below David's right knee at what looked like a gnarled piece of hickory. Still, the Old southerner steeped in a belief that Negroes were workhorses, made David walk and jump. He squeezed the good leg with his hand, massaged the good strong calf and then the weak one. He measured the leg from crotch to ankle, wrote down the numbers on a chart, and studied the chart marked with other men's numbers. He sized up David's withered leg next to a scrawny white boy's good leg and told himself he didn't see much of a difference. Get it Now!

Embark on an extraordinary voyage to Astroworld with Promise as your spirited guide. In this collection of tales, you'll witness the fascinating tapestry of humor and heartache woven into her epic journey towards a place of true happiness. These stories are just a glimpse of the incredible adventures awaiting you in "Promises Letters from the Road to Astroworld" and the enchanting novel "The Road to Astroworld." Prepare to be captivated by a world where laughter and tears dance in harmony, beckoning you to explore the full tapestry of Promise's extraordinary expedition.

You may think with a name like Jethro, our story is a simple tale of a country bumpkin visiting New York City. It’s deeper than that. There’s a restlessness in Jethro’s soul. Plus, he has the quirky habit of barking when he’s nervous. It starts with a low growl when he’s mildly agitated, to a ferocious bark when he feels endangered. Jethro gets fed up with his wife and her cousin after being cooped up in the cousin's tiny apartment. He came to New York to see things, he declares and steps out to explore the city on his own. As he rides the subway he growls under his breath to keep the creeps away (just imagine). He catches the attention of Toni a crossdresser recently released from the army. It becomes a wild weekend of sex and self-discovery until a dangerous encounter with a gang of boys sends Jethro back to the arms of his wife, Eartha Pearl. Is Jethro a changed man? Only time will tell. "Harvey captures the flavor of New York with the best of them." Excerpt: I say, “Now wait a minute, Jethro, you ain’t gonna have no cultural experiences stuck scared here on this stoop. Suppose Columbus had just sat on a stoop all his life. Just suppose. Shit. A man must take action!” While I sit debating, this big white dude in chains and leather walks toward me. Now, these chains ain’t dainty little things you get from Spiegel’s catalog. These chains come from the Navy yard. I mean these chains can lift submarines. He wears three around his neck, five on each wrist, and two on each ankle. Now the chains do not bother me. The fact that he has on funky raw uncured leather does not bother me. Even the glass eye--I hope it’s glass--dangling from his left earlobe on a chain does not bother me. What bothers me is when he turns in my direction, and grabs his grapefruit sized crotch and smiles—that’s what bothers ol’ Jethro here. I say, “Uh oh Jethro, somebody wants you to swing a certain way. And I don’t swing that way.” I wonder why he pick on me? So what if I do have on these black high top sneakers, shorts with Texas bluebonnets all over them, and a pink tee-shirt that says, “I BRAKE FOR MOONERS--that don’t mean I’m gay. Shoot. I’m just a colorful dude. Well okay if you want to count that time when I was in the eighth grade and me and Johnny Scardino grabbed each other’s rods behind the gym bleachers. I wouldn’t have gone back there with him, but he told me he had two and he would show me if I showed him mine. Okay, it tickled and I got a hard-on when he grabbed me and I grabbed him out of reflexes, but I haven’t seen Johnny since the eighth grade. I dreamed about him once, since I been married to Eartha Pearl. But I woke up and made love to Eartha real quick. So anyway I hang my head and growl softly at the man in leather. He must think I’m calling him to dinner ‘cause he moves a little closer. When I see him step, I bark louder. And not yap yap like a poodle either. I’m Doberman and Great Dane combined. I rattle nearby windows. New York people stare at me as they walk by. And they tell me you’re doing something when you can get a New Yorker to stare at you eye-level on the street. The dude slinks away like he’s carrying a tail between his legs. First appeared in Soulfires and Shade.

In this fictionalized account, Money Mississippi, notorious for the brutal murder of Emmett Till has had a one hundred and eighty-degree turn from its old ways. A mile from the infamous Bryant’s Grocery and Meat Market sits a big shiny blue Walmart along an avenue populated with fast food restaurants and a Starbucks. Young black men with pants sagging walk along the broad sidewalks holding their girlfriend’s hands. No one bats an eye if the girl is blue-eyed and blond. At times a pickup truck bearing confederate flag license plates will rev its engine, but the young seem unfazed. A prosperous black population lives along the banks of the Tallahatchie River. Their ranks culled from nearby military installations and new industry. Still, taboos exist, and people remember the old Money Mississippi. Jill a thirty-year-old white woman and Alvin, a seventeen-year-old black kid are having an affair. The relationship is as much about rebelling as it is about love. Jill enjoys rubbing her KKK grandfather’s nose in the tryst. Alvin like most young men has one thing on his mind. But he too is on a mission to resist his Grandfather’s teachings rooted in the old ways of Money. He sees Jill as a sexual conquest and to prove his grandfather wrong about white women and “light skin women.” However, Jill and Alvin are on opposite sides of the track. While Alvin comes from the more prosperous River Hill Estates, Jill lives in a housing project alongside a swampy tributary of the Tallahatchie River. Her only future is Walmart and the pills she takes for PTSD brought on by a traumatic incident that happened when she was in the army. Alvin goes off to college and leaves Jill pregnant with his child. He returns four years later with his bride-to-be and plans to take his child. What happens on his return will make you wonder if the spirit of Emmett lurks in the murky waters of the Tallahatchie. Excerpt: As Alvin walked along the river, he felt himself wise for a boy. In that brief summer escaping from murderous Chicago, he had been fed a healthy diet of grandfatherly advice on everything from blues to women. And it was the subject of women that had intrigued Alvin the most. He let the John Lee Hooker, BB King, Charles Johnson, Lead Belly, Muddy Waters, and Son House albums gather dust while he studied the white girls of Money. He had dated white girls in Chicago an act that got him in trouble with a local street gang in his Southside neighborhood. It had taken his book smarts along with his good looks to wow those northern girls. When he got off the bus at the depot in Money and looked around at the willows blowing in the breeze, he felt oddly at ease and imagined those willows as the arms and legs of girls bending and yielding to his enchanting northern accent and street edge. He would allow them to cast their spell first of course. His grandfather had said that was the gentlemanly thing to do. He loved the spells of white girls--the eyes that changed from blue to green from amber to black at the whim of the sun or even a cloudy sky.

Perhaps Mick Jagger said it best in his iconic song "I Can't Get No Satisfaction." Edgar an aging transvestite can't get any satisfaction. A warm summer night finds him lonely and in the mood for love. He picks up a young man at a bar, but sex doesn't calm the malice lurking in Edgar's heart. Edgar is torn between jealousy of the guy's youthfulness and yearning to possess the young man forever. This poem is quirky, strange, and speaks to gay men's deep aloneness in today's app-filled quickie love society. The epistle, We Are Here is included. Celebrate what is strange, beautiful, and also what is great about our lives.

Urban Tales are about us, at least some of us. They are about us being funny and about us loving, lusting, and sexing. Only us could have "Dozens" players in our Christmas story. Only us know how to tip over on the down-low. These stories are streetwise, but yet will make you think and won't shortchange you. These are long and short stories. They are gritty and heart touching. Characters speak in elegant voices and raw urban tongues. The raw truth can make you uncomfortable, and maybe make you cry. But the truth will never bore you. After you've read this book, feel free to check out the big books: Maura and Her Two Husbands, Minister Q, Ebenezer Jenkins' Christmas in Chicago, and much more to come.

Introduction to Americana Poems can be reflective or reactionary. In a reflective mood, the poet comments on past events. His or her voice may be calm, wistful, and longing. They are preservers of the moment. When poets put on their reactionary mantle, they are more vocal and want to move themselves and others to action In this small collection, Harvey has both the reflective voice and the force of the reactionary. Viewing the Vietnam War, race relations, and the cultural renaissance of the 1960’s and 1970’s through the prism of a child’s eye shaped Harvey’s views and points of view. The poets Allen Ginsburg, Amiri Baraka, Langston Hughes, and Ai shaped his voice. Excerpt: New York! Herds of humanity Graze on street corner slop and ride in the bellies Of silver worms beneath city gutters Street people are ragged and unfashionably stinky. Everyone else is fashionably ragged. “Andy” sells me a beaded sweater off an old lady’s dead shoulders. A roguish Puerto Rican painter copies A Robert Colescott painting as his own black creation. Got all dressed up to go to the theatre in Harlem. Got there stinky and hot--Harlem, Who bombed it? Noise all night long in Brooklyn. No ugly people live in New York Everyone is Cafe' au lait. Tall boy with five inch hair Sits wide legged on the sub in baggy trousers. His throat is stiff with defiance, But his dark Eyes linger in mine for a moment. Everything is for sale in New York Even a hug from daddy long legs.