Charlie Brice: Out of the Closet
Clothed in my cheap JC Penny’s suit, holding a bible, sitting on a container of disinfectant that smells like murder, like what they’d use to clean the war machine of … Continue reading
Charles W. Brice: Hitching Post
A hippie sings his heart out in front of Christ Church, Oxford, his voice out of tune with his out of tune guitar. Our guide, beer on his breath at … Continue reading
Charles W. Brice: Walking Townsend Road, Petoskey, Michigan
One day it’s the red-twigged dogwoods ringed by rag weed yellows and chicory blues that clarify mind and confirm insignificance. Another day it’s the garter snake whose crushed … Continue reading
Charles W. Brice: Elvis Presley Patch
Let’s face it there is no hair left on the top of my head. Even if I bought a designer mop, or had a hair transplant and looked like … Continue reading
Charlie Brice: Soulium
Having doubts about why you are alive, why things happen as they do, why religious fanatics burn people alive, take off heads, shoot unarmed cartoonists, destroy ageless art works, hang … Continue reading
