Richard Is Gone

Getting close to publishing my 34th book.
Here's another excerpt from that:

Richard Is Gone

Richard is gone today, or so he says, off by

bus. The Greyhound will make eleven stops,

36 hours on the road before he gets out onto

that pebbled cement in that California air. It’s

different there. The sunlight is like a sort of

golden paint and through all the traffic you can

still smell the eucalyptus and the flowers and

maybe even see orange and avocado trees. I sit

here and think of it, and I can feel it. That’s the

power of the dream calling me.