A photo starts the hunt for the missing.
POETRY
POETRY
A photo starts the hunt for the missing.
MICRO
Ring out,
ring in, machete.
POETRY
I’ve shriveled/ into puddle/ pounded/
my bones/ into biomes I don’t belong/
jettisoned the spirit-spin/ at the junction/
of the salacious/ and self-adulation/
BACK OF THE ENVELOPE
(I’ve never met a woman who would disembowel
to make a moot point).
RECENTLY PUBLISHED
“I can’t believe you would write about something like that,” my sister said. She had called our house, it was pure luck that my mother happened to be out.
My installations aren’t like your little illustrations!
"...Often the draft has its own energy and then we almost kill it. We refine something down to death."