Chisel, by Dan Mader (posted by permission)



He is a man conflicted. His clothes smell like oil and his nails are black. He reads poetry by candle light. He thinks of when she was near him. Hears her voice and starts – he is screaming inside. The restraints drive him to a frenzy. And so it goes.

1 thought on “Chisel, by Dan Mader (posted by permission)

  1. Coming back to Dan Mader is rather like returning to a recurring dream, one I cannot escape and one which haunts me even during my waking hours. The word I usually use to describe your work, Dan, is “bleak.” But that does not really capture the astounding depth of humanity you always manage to chisel out of the smallest piece of rock. Sometimes the chisel finds a vein of yielding softness. Other times, like here, it chips away all but the hardest core of one’s hidden fears.

    Liked by 1 person

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