David Davis struggles to put food on the table, literally.
About David Davis
Recently retired, Mr. Davis has published works of short fiction, non-fiction, and poetry in various online magazines.
1929, 1941, 2001. On coming of age and hope, despite all
August 20, 2011 By Leave a Comment
My daughter is coming of age in a society struggling to overcome its own shortsightedness, greed, and failure. But in her eyes, I see no condemnation and no angst for the future.
Here’s Your Mom
August 16, 2011 By 6 Comments
Why is it that men so often have little to say to the men closest to them: their fathers and sons?
Neither Shame Nor Pride
August 9, 2011 By 7 Comments
December 1st, 1969. A group of college kids crowded round the TV. Each left as his birth date was called, his future having been decided—Vegas style—by the luck of the draw.
When It’s Time for Them to Go
July 28, 2011 By 1 Comment
David Davis watches his daughter grow up and leave the house for college, just like his son a decade ago.
What I Have Written, I Have Written
May 10, 2011 By Leave a Comment
David Davis takes a hard look at himself, his children, and what it means to be a father.
Life Has Knuckles
February 27, 2011 By Leave a Comment
His forearm flashed instantly. With the snap of his wrist the back of his hand cracked against the corner of my mouth.
The Death Sentence
February 22, 2011 By 7 Comments
“This is a coffin?” I thought to myself. I’ll be damned if I’ll bury my son in a beer cooler.
“These men did not expect to live, and now they are learning how to try and live again.”
This comment is by Adam McPhee on Kile Ozier’s post, “Good Grief”.