Category Archives: Poetry

No Man’s Brooklyn

I am happy to announce that my fourth novel, No Man’s Brooklyn, has officially been released. Books can be ordered through Amazon  or other online booksellers. For those who wish to order a copy directly from me, I will have … Continue reading

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Recursively Yours

Anya, a ghost from my past life who had been more alive in my heart than perhaps anyone else.Anya, who in varied incarnations I had loved and killed off in many different ways in different stories. Yet I always resurrected … Continue reading

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Rainy Night

Something in me couldn’t bear the prospect of sitting next to Anya on the train, of us talking. I didn’t want there to be any words between us. Ours had become a ghost story and I wanted silence to fulfill … Continue reading

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Company

It is scary once you realize that the past can be changed, and that the future is fixed, a rigged absolute. Knowing that changes everything. And what about the present? For some the present is intolerable cruelty, unimpeachable company. For … Continue reading

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Cosmic Lay Slick astronomy, moonlight drips between her thighs– The lay of space, mine.

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SallyGray is Gone

It was a privilege to wrrite the intro to Joe DePatta’s debut poetry collection: SallyGray is Gone. Coming soon from CSF Publishing. Sally Gray is gone. Four words amounting to an irrefutable statement, a hard fact. Four words that come … Continue reading

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Speakeasy

Dreams are like speakeasies for the soul. A secret password so you can enter, unchecked moral boundaries allowing you to trespass and indulge freely in the vagrant and illicit, after hours pressing of bootleg vinyl that places scorched scarabs in … Continue reading

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In Wonder

As long as there are little girls with heart-shaped glasses who are out there, among the blackbirds and dandelions, generously unwinding string like floating rivers of silk, as they put their butterfly-beating hearts into the flying of a kite on … Continue reading

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Flashpoint

Don’t you see, you young foolish headstrong man you, only when the separation between subject and object dissolves, only then will you know the passive, panting worth of the world, betrothed as phantom bride to every intuitive seed planted, where … Continue reading

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What We Can’t Measure

In a world of agitated solos, competitive streams of ticker-tape bickering, and relentlessly sharpened points of comparison, it is comforting to know that every single breath we take, last to first, is an uncomplicated gift beyond measure.

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