I published a digital chapbook containing 12 pieces of my best flash fiction. It’s a one-hour short-read available as an e-book and part of Kindle Unlimited.

Stephen Dalton posted a review here on Medium. Here are some other reviews taken from the book’s Amazon page:

A great read you can squeeze in between longer novels.

Although short, Jim Latham’s Noon in Florida packs a punch. Each of these short stories illuminates an aspect of what it means to be human. From a son connected to the nuances of his relationship with his dying father via the beeping of a heart monitor in “Keeping Time,” to an “old guy” doing what…

Travel. Africa. Wildlife.

Three of us lurched down the narrow path carved into the dense forest.

Weaving our way from one side of the path to the other, we paid no attention to the various squawks and rustlings produced by the creatures in the dense forest surrounding us.

Having consumed an intemperate number of Bell Lagers with our dinner, we were only minimally aware of the humid night air that coated our skins with moisture.

In fact, we weren’t paying attention to much at all, other than finding our way back to our hotel room.

We certainly weren’t looking where we were going.

It’s not often a New York Times editorial triggers me.

This one, written by Jorge Ramos about the endless crisis on the US-Mexico border, that frontier Carlos Fuentes described as a “bleeding scar,” did.

I grew up in California — in wine country no less — where I witnessed firsthand the xenophobia and racism directed by the state and federal government, not to mention private citizens, toward Mexican-Americans and other Latinx people.

Despite this, I studied Spanish in high school. Since then I have been privileged to enjoy trips to several countries in Latin America.

Jorge Ramos’ opinion piece about…

Semliki Note #1 — Data

Up early with the bats in a soft rain, I’m walking down a steep path to the climate station we’ve set up at the river. The forest is silent except for some restless insects and one or two birds.

I raise the kerosene lantern high to take the readings of temperature and humidity. Droplets of water hiss as they strike the glass.

Back up the hill, I shrug my way into the kitchen area and set the lantern down. A deck of cards in order by suits and an empty gin bottle sit on the table.

Not my doing.

I…