I am just chewing up all these things, cheeks fat and gleaming with meaty poetry, mouthy, self-indulgent. Words, all the time, can’t stop can’t stomach all the silence, all the brain waves.  I… Continue reading


I’m in love with an old man, sixty-five, little gray beard hairs that shine in the light, naked wrinkled skin.  I read him poems from Leaves of Grass and pass him a  good… Continue reading


It’s not too late to burn the bread or turn the car around or drop everything. You say it’s never too late, I think it’s probably too late for some things.


I missed the taste of Italy, not the way the air smelled so much just how the wine and how your skin and  how the sweet blue ocean tasted then when we were… Continue reading

potato peeler

My heart has been like a potato,  each thin piece sliced off another round at life or love, probably you. And every piece cut off, each slab leaves its jagged imprint on the… Continue reading


I needed to take a break for awhile, to walk under almost-blossoming apple trees and smell the still air all dark and rich with new life. I needed to escape the ride.

Honesty in Fiction: How Much is Too Much?

I just want to make something honest. I was churning out these dry stories, detailed-to-minutia, all scene, no internal dialogue, very little dialogue at all (because I’m insecure about writing dialogue) and then… Continue reading


            He saved his broken bongs and bird feathers and always knew his cardinal directions.  He found voodoo in the ninth ward and crossed the Mississippi River. He… Continue reading

the wheels on the bus, no. 1

There were a lot of old ladies today, sitting quietly, purses in laps, looking straight ahead. One mom, three kids running up and down the aisle, one clutched to her sagging chest and… Continue reading

Writing Woes.

I have a couple of BIG NOVEL IDEAS that are tying me all up in knots. One that I’ve been working the kinks out of for a couple of months and the other,… Continue reading