Category Archives: Slice of Death

A Hole in My Ho Ho

Posted on December 25, 2021 by Jim Stewart

This has been the first Christmas in many years without you. Ah, buddy, I miss you so. There really is a hole in my ho ho. I’m still saying goodnight to you when I turn off the light. I may … Continue reading →

Posted in Beach, Bedtime, Dog, Friendship, Letters from elsewhere, Slice of Death | Tagged , , , | 19 Comments

Shameless Plug

Posted on October 30, 2018 by Jim Stewart

Okay. Another shameless plug: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/white-ravens/id1439393149?ls=1&mt=11 The collection goes live tomorrow.

Posted in Art, communication, Consciousness, Conversation, Friendship, Gratitude, Hope, Humans, humor, Jim Stewart, Life, Man, Oregon, pals, Reading, Sex, Short Story, Slice of Death, Slice of Life, Time, Uncategorized, Universe, veterans, War, Wisdom, women, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , | 4 Comments

A Question for Cheryl

Posted on February 11, 2014 by Jim Stewart

I should have knelt in the street, put my head in your lap, and let you stroke my hair. But we didn’t know. We were ten. Would you have grown into a woman who found a cure for what killed … Continue reading →

Posted in Aging, Consciousness, end-of-life, family, memory, Poem, Slice of Death | Tagged , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

A Frog for Cheryl

Posted on February 10, 2014 by Jim Stewart

(Note: This is a reprint of a poem I published years ago in Licking River Review. Not sure why, but I’ve been thinking about my long-gone friend Cheryl, who died when we were ten. The poem also appears on jamesrichardstewart.com.”) … Continue reading →

Posted in Consciousness, end-of-life, memory, Poem, Reprint, Slice of Death, Wildlife | Tagged , , , , , | 3 Comments

Silly Old Cat

Posted on January 25, 2014 by Jim Stewart

Silly old cat. You almost made it to twenty. What is that in cat years? You never gave in to mere affection and were loathe to suffer a belly rub. You drew blood from the uninitiated. Maine Coon and who … Continue reading →

Posted in Aging, end-of-life, parents, Poem, Slice of Death | Tagged , , , , , | 3 Comments

Excerpt from “Death is Easy”

Posted on December 17, 2013 by Jim Stewart

(Note: This is an excerpt from a Mike Ironwood novel I’ve “finished” and am now rewriting. For the sake of context, Daniel is Mike’s half-brother who is also half Nez Perce. ~jrs) When we got out of bed Bucket came … Continue reading →

Posted in Detective novel, Novel Excerpt, Sex, Slice of Death, Slice of Life, story excerpt | Tagged , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Dead-end Dad

Posted on December 3, 2013 by Jim Stewart

Flags wave in the breezy dark as houselights shine for no one. Across the street below, tired ghosts dance on closed garage doors. My cigar glows and ash sticks to my shirt. The wind tries to brush it away, but … Continue reading →

Posted in Aging, family, Poem, Slice of Death, Slice of Life | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Vialed and Tubed

Posted on December 2, 2013 by Jim Stewart

The moon, deranged and full of jazz, blows a hornless riff down the long chamber of cells where bars fling linear shadows across a concrete floor. One cell stands open, confusing the pattern with rude hatching, plaid on stripes in … Continue reading →

Posted in Slice of Death | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

A Prairie Prayer

Posted on November 26, 2013 by Jim Stewart

We moved his body to the rafters of the tack shed this morning. His woman, his mate, his best friend, will keep what is left of him alive as best she can. She is listening for You and seeks solace … Continue reading →

Posted in American history, cowboy poetry, prayer, Slice of Death, Slice of Life | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Slapstick Death

Posted on September 14, 2013 by Jim Stewart

I stood in the dusty street, reckless and wild, listening to my heart pound. It had finally come to this and I was ready. Passers by saw my intent, felt the ice in my stare, and scurried out of the … Continue reading →

Posted in Absurd fantasy, Slice of Death, Slice of Life, Uncategorized | Tagged , , | Leave a comment