Author Archives

Contact info: elbrookman@outlook.com

  • The Wind

    The wind, Prankster of October leaves Swirling under a magician’s wand. Taking from branches and limbs That once reached out in the summer sun Full of dreams, and enclosing our days When love was young.   Limbs picked by chilling… Read More ›

  • The Whore in the Ford

    The Whore in the Ford   All her belongings piled to the back window. Obstructing past visions of her abandoned sons in the rear view mirror. Her flea market on wheels, ready for unloading at the next man’s place. The… Read More ›

  • Black Walnut Creek

    Black Walnut Creek   A winter brook flows to Warmer, muddier waters. What we call Love, eternal babblings over stones, Flushing into spaces of courts and divisions Around the bay. A body handles Only so many transfusions, And each heart… Read More ›

  • Huckleberry Pound

       I can only scribble about myself and my time.      Tell about growing up in a dive tavern in a bad neighborhood, Southeast Washington D.C., but little of the politics of that Marble City surrounding me. It is just… Read More ›

  • First Date Horror

        When I was eighteen, I met a very attractive twenty-six year old, blonde, single mother of a 6 year old girl. I quickly asked her to go out to dinner and a movie for our first date. I got… Read More ›

  • Terror On Flight 319

         I made it to the airport and waited in a long line to be checked for security purposes before my flight. I made sure I wasn’t hungry by eating just before at a Mexican food chain inside the airport…. Read More ›

  • The Delivered Letter

         My Uncle was a bigwig in the Post Office and he would get me and my friends, part-time, eighty-nine day job appointments. The hourly wage was great for summers between college courses, or laying around till something more permanent… Read More ›

  • Selling Cars

         When I was in my twenties, broke and looking to make some money, I took a job selling cars. Back then, everything you heard about degenerate car salesmen was absolutely true. No internet, or survey’s from the corporate car… Read More ›

  • Madam Tillie ….The Fortune-Teller

         Madam Tillie was a palm reader, fortune-teller on Silver Hill Road. In our youth,  my friend Joe and I were sure it was a whore house and the rumors seemed to confirm it. We were eighteen and it was legal for… Read More ›

  • My Pops, The Boxer.

        My Father was Irish and married a full blooded Italian woman . After he left his boxing career he became a bodyguard to a Washington D.C.  Italian, disorganized crime leader.   One night in bars near the Marine Barracks on 8th… Read More ›