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Bio Matter

Jason K. ChapmanJason K. Chapman, after a long absence, is finally back in his native New York City. Though he attended Georgia Tech as an electrical engineering major, he soon discovered a fondness for computers.

The online edition, hosted at HappyHacker.org, has down for quite a while, and the e-mails have been pouring in. Problem solved! The online edition is now being hosted right here. As an extra added bonus, the viewing script has been tweaked for a better reading experience. And, as always, you can read it absolutely free.

Read the new online edition of THE HERETIC. The new layout maintains the page form better and copes well with adjusted font sizes. Overall, it should make for a much easier reading experience.

Meanwhile, we have new downloadable e-book versions in the works. First up will be an edition for the Sony Reader. If you haven't checked it out, you should. Check back to see when the new formats will be released.


Poetry vs Prose

"I'm horribly illiterate when it comes to poetry. That's a terrible admission, considering my involvement with Poets & Writers, I know.

"Whereas a novel is a thousand pounds of dynamite, a poem is a tiny vial of nitroglycerin. They can both move mountains, but require very different handling."

According to Jason, this page should make it abundantly clear why he's not a poet.

Urban Haiku - The Light Side

Plaintive horns below,
Summer's promise on the wind.
Rooftop gardening.

Dogs run free, unleashed.
The park sprouts noisy color.
Coats and bonds are shed.

Spring breeze high above.
On Lady Liberty's torch,
Falcons nest in hope.

Pavement cracks with age.
Springtime calls, "Come live with me."
One brave flower heeds.

Time's Cry

(Time's Cry was written for, and is dedicated to,
all of my friends who were once part of
the Skunks group. --JKC

Time's Cry

The tavern glows from smiling panes,
Pressing at the shadowed dusk.
I know there should be voices here,
Of comrades, strangers, friends.

I know this with my every thought,
Know it as I know my name.
I should be hearing voices now
Of comrades, strangers, friends.

But nothing of the tavern's life
Reaches me across the air.
I hear no murmured whispering
Of comrades, strangers, friends.

Time's cry it is that's deafened me,
Drowning out the siren song
Of merriment and subtleties
Of comrades, strangers, friends.

Time's cry beats shrill upon my ears,
Forcing me to turn away
From spirits I would rather share,
From comrades, strangers, friends.

So lift them for me, friends, I ask.
Make the rafters shake with song.
Time's cry insists that I must stray
From comrades, strangers, friends.

Urban Haiku - The Dark Side

(Yes, I realize that traditional haiku form doesn't include titles, but it's a good way to sneak in an extra word to enhance the meaning. --JKC)


Stained glass dark at night
Gothic arch in icy winds
Beggars sleep outside

The Dealer

Shadowed alleyway
Nervous hands and shifting glance
He sells death as dreams


Morning thaws the street
People flow in torrid streams
He hopes for kindness

Life's Worth

Lightning strikes the eye
Hand-held thunder heralds death
Twenty bucks and change