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At the first sign of discomfort, I reach… I reach for something to put in my mouth. I reach for something to check. I reach for another something to drink. I reach for an old flame. A new flame. An extinguished flame. People have their little families, their little groups,… [Continue Reading]

Sometimes poems wait for you. It’s like a poem has run up ahead to get the lay of the land and then waits for you to catch up. That’s how you can get a poem way before you get a poem, way before being able to put into words the… [Continue Reading]

I want to write about how I feel the tug of the other side, about how an awareness of not being, at least not in this form, sometimes makes my heart skip a beat. I wouldn’t call it fear, exactly, though maybe it’s fear’s distant cousin, or a half-brother. It’s… [Continue Reading]