reading

Desdemona

Standard

boysandgirls

My new novel of literary fiction is now available! Download it free right HERE.

Dante Torn is a thirteen year-old boy living in Norwalk, Ohio. He is quiet and obedient. Respectful of his elders. His manners are good. So are his grades.

But his life begins to change when he meets and falls in love with Sunset Desdemona, a red-headed firefox who goes to his school. Sunny is sly, devious, precocious. A girl with narrow eyes and a knowing sneer.

Setting his sights on her is easy. Winning her is not, as Sunny, who also sees Dante as a potential mate, puts him through a number of unusual tests to prove his mettle.

As Dante gets closer and closer to winning her love, he also comes to see that she is not what she seems. Darkness hovers just beyond her shoulders, and in it, strange things keep appearing. How is it that she can always get what she wants? Why does she have an entire group of girls at her beck and call? And what about her parents? They seem totally at ease with their daughter’s commanding ways.

Who are the Desdemonas really? Being in love, Dante feels he has no choice but to find out.

Helping him is a retired opera singer who lives down the street. He tells Dante a number of stories from his youth that in strange ways relate to his affair with Sunny.

Love is a martyr. Pain is a cross. Mystery is the ghost that comes after. Read on about a boy who discovers all three, and in the end confronts a choice even the wisest of men would do well to avoid.

THIS NOVEL IS AVAILABLE RIGHT NOW! IT’S FREE! FREE! FREE! FREE!

GET IT RIGHT HERE:  DESDEMONA

When I See You

Standard

When I see you at school I cannot read,

Be it Twain or London or Sewell;

My mind rather goes with the gentle lead,

Of my heart when I see you at school.

 

When I see you at noon I cannot eat,

For these feelings profusely strewn,

I gather resigned become replete,

In my heart when I see you at noon.

 

Leave me awake; leave me asleep;

For what is a dream without you?

Test letters in red—go bend, go break!

What more can a dreamer do?

 

When I see you at home I cannot find,

Such meaningful lines for a poem,

May with my love become entwined,

In my heart when I see you at home.

 

And when I see you at night I am freed,

And by countless stars softness light,

I redress the pain and confess the need,

Of my heart when I see you at night.

 

Tag Cavello 2018

Two Dogs

Standard

Two dogs came to call upon me,

From a place I had never known;

They wagged their tails with urgency,

Though not for want of a bone.

 

I followed them to an old iron bridge,

Overlooking standard gauge rails;

From there they jumped to a rocky ridge,

That winds along wooded trails.

 

‘Twas a sunny day with smiling trees,

Their green-gold boughs in bloom;

Nevertheless she could not please,

A chill from her rigid groom.

 

He stood in form of an icy cave,

Just off the ridge to my right,

Dark and hushed, a cathedral nave,

Wherein the dogs vanished from sight.

 

The tray of their invitation,

Lay before me, crystalline;

The noonday train had not left its station,

Nor did I have sufficient steam.

 

There I stood on the shimmering tracks,

My heart gone a little way,

Until I decided it best to turn back,

Or rather less safe to stay.

 

And later I told myself a lie,

I still do not believe;

I said I did not wish to die,

And with those dogs take leave.

 

Tag Cavello 2018

Candle Down The Lane

Standard

Candle down the lane,

Where nowadays I rest,

Defy the wind and rain,

For longer I behest.

 

For this Christmas night I spent,

Unalone since years gone quick,

With a girl who softly bent,

She bent and set your wick.

 

And by your light came dreams,

And funny little stories,

In which I found my own it seems,

Sad ghosts, devout rectories.

 

Like many a leaf of the storm,

She fluttered in from the rain,

And like many a leaf thus torn,

She fluttered off again.

 

And here I am returned,

From walking her to the street,

And I see her flame still burns,

And I wish her dreams be sweet.

 

Candle burning, burn away slow,

With the heat of a match-girl’s pity,

Burn despite her need to go,

Light other lanes in the city.

 

Yet when I awoke next day,

Your wick was black and cold,

And I went to the street, just a little way,

And I grew just a little more old.

 

Tag Cavello 2018

Thus I Decree We Stay Home From School

Standard

When one in dragons no longer believes,

Those dragons, some say, will turn into leaves,

And take the shape of jaws in the trees,

And die on a cold winter breeze.

 

And when we are told that fairies are lies,

Those fairies become puffy clouds in the skies,

Made mistier still by relinquishing sighs,

Of little girls waving goodbye.

 

But maybe we needn’t grow up all the way,

We who have all these stories to say,

For what is the law that grown-ups can’t play,

Sometimes, in passing, on days like today?

 

Thus I decree we stay home from school,

For the desperate sake of our hearts’ renewal,

Of deeper treasures, more delicate jewels.

Thus I decree we stay home from school.

 

Tag Cavello, 2018

The idea for this poem comes from my daughter, Nemo.

Ghost Girl

Standard

An excerpt from my coming novel, inspired by A Ghost, by Guy de Maupassant…

“Mr. Donati,” she said in a voice bereft of all music. “Thank you so much for coming. The rain has made a mess of my hair. Could you please brush it out smooth?”

“Of course,” I told her.

“Put your candle on the floor.”

I did as she asked. Her smile chilled me. It was the smile of a woman long buried, painted upon canvas to forever haunt the minds of passing admirers. I was one such admirer, and knew I would never forget Princess.

She sat quite still after handing me a brush. I stepped behind her. My left hand plunged into a curtain of black hair cold as flowing ice water. It spilled over my skin, wrapping itself about my wrist and fingers. My right hand squeezed the brush. Slowly, I stroked downward through the curtain, careful not to pull too hard where the bristles caught.

“That’s it,” Princess said. Only her mouth moved. The rest of her body was like stone. “Brush out where it catches and snags. Oh! How these ragged rats infuriate me!”

I gave her hair another stroke, and then another. Goosebumps rose on my arms. So cold were the inky black snakes of her hair I felt compelled to ask if she’d taken refuge from the storm in a shoveled hole. Yet with time the brush encountered less resistance. The follicles became smooth if not clean. And I brushed, and I brushed, there by the fitful fire, much like de Maupassant’s hero in that old ghost story of his. And at last Princess’ hair turned soft and smooth, an old black curtain in the window of a parlor where hymns  are sung, and prayers uttered.

Her head snapped round to look at me. On her face remained that smile of the dead, captured by oil.

“Thank you!” she breathed in a pretty little gush, then leaped from the chair.

Her bare feet were delicate on the floor, her step dainty as a kitten’s. Lightening flashed from somewhere; thunder boomed. And with one final look in my direction, Princess disappeared through the door.

Tag Cavello, 2018

17 Questions With Author Tag Cavello

Standard

by Hap Pringle

I recently got another chance to chat with author Tag Cavello about his new book—coming this Christmas—and short story, Fit to Live. From there we wandered down a few other lanes, some dreary, some cut with faint rays of hope. It wasn’t easy getting him out from under his rock, but here he is. Read on.

So what have you been doing with yourself?

Well, we’re still working on Desdemona, of course. Still on track for a Christmas release. And then there’s the short story we just put out.

Fit to Live. Tell me about that.

My brother and I got into an argument about guns and gun control. This was maybe two months ago. In the middle of the argument he said: “It is our God-given right to carry guns.” Now what on Earth does God have to do with guns? Seeing as I’m atheist, this was doubly absurd. So I decided to write a short story where three guys have a discussion about gun control. Two of them are for and one is against.

Has anyone read it yet?

One person. And he was kind enough to leave a review. I’m very grateful.

Don’t you get tired of writing flops?

Sometimes. Still, if I get an idea I like, I’ll write about it. Not that it matters. Consider all the people talking about gun control right now, some for, some against. It’s a hot topic. Yet Fit to Live went ignored on Smashwords.

You’ve been back in the business of writing since 2012. Why haven’t readers caught on yet?

It’s probably due to a lot of reasons. Indie authors are never trusted. Self-published authors. None of us are any good. Or so readers believe. Then there’s my name. Tag. Would you read a book written by a guy named Tag?

Uh…no.

There you go.

Ever consider a pseudonym? 

A few. L. H. Booth. J. W. Oswald. Crystal talked me out of those.

Smart girl. How is Crystal these days? 

Perky and optimistic as ever. I honestly don’t know how she manages.

You said that Desdemona is due for Christmas. But we’ve also gotten rumors of production problems. Be honest now. How is the book coming?

Oh, it hasn’t been all cake and tea. But we’re moving forward. We get work done every night. Admittedly, this novel isn’t being as friendly as the other three were. It doesn’t always want to let me in. Part of that has to do with conflicting styles. One night I want to be Eric McCormack, the next night, Clive Barker, the next night, Dante. Crystal, who plays Sunny in the book, keeps telling me to be me. Find out who Tag Cavello is and be him. And sometimes that happens. And sometimes it doesn’t.

Did production actually stop for awhile? 

We suspended the book for the entire month of January. That was bad. What was good came in February, when we dove right back in and got things moving. Come on, Hap, Eric McCormack took twelve years to write Cloud.

Let’s lighten the mood before we all go shopping for rope. What are your three favorite drinks?

Diet Coke, coffee, um…shit.

Shit???

No, I mean I can’t think of a third. Beck’s beer. There you go.

If there were only one place in all the world you’d be allowed to live, where would it be? 

The Jackson farm in Monroeville, Ohio. I’ve already lived there once, as a boy. So many memories got made. It’s like another world, closed off from the town by trees and fields. In winter it snows. In spring the flowers bloom and dandelion seeds fly across the back porch like fairies. Summer is sunny and stormy. In autumn the entire farm becomes haunted. In a word, it’s perfect.

What is your favorite food?

Spinach lasagna at Sbarro’s.

Superman or Batman?

Oooh. You know what? I don’t like to get close to people who have extreme power over me. I tend to avoid them. They are not trustworthy. So neither one of these men are appealing as far as I’m concerned.

Tell me one opinion you have that flies in the face of what’s common for others.

I’d need to think about that one. But for now I have to say that I’ve never liked the actor Bill Murray. Could never understand his appeal. He’s rude to fans on the street and always seems irritated by fame. Oh and here’s a quote:  “The Ghostbusters thing is never going to go away until some kid chokes to death on one of the toys.” He actually said that to a reporter at a Cubs game. Look it up. I don’t ever want to meet Bill Murray.

What if he reads one of your books and contacts you about professional publication?

Yeah, we might be friends. Cool.

What film director do you think would be most interested in adapting one of your books?

They are all dead.

Oh, come on. There must be one.

Roman Polanski might be interested in Crystal Grader.

Ha-ha. Still haven’t gotten in trouble over that book? 

Nope. And it gets decent reviews from readers. 4 and 5 stars. Readers will forgive sensitive material, I think, so long as there’s meaning and depth to the story. I tried putting those things in Crystal Grader. It’s mostly paid off.

One last question, and it’s deep:  Apple or Android?

Android, no question. I think the big problem with Apple is their products don’t play nice with other kids in the street. And now, with Steve Jobs gone, there have been supposed quality issues with their software. I use the word supposed because all I have to go on are internet opinions.

And those will have to do until better ones come along. Thank you for your time, Tag.

Sure. Stay real, cool, and loose, Hap.

 

Find all of Tag Cavello’s work right here:  https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/dammyl1971