Time, ordered to frieze,
and meld its constituents–
No eyewitnesses.

Time, ordered to frieze,
and meld its constituents–
No eyewitnesses.

Trailer for my novel, The Last Furies.
Coming this fall from Lost Telegram press.
“A photograph is a secret about a secret”— Diane Arbus
Two snaps from a series of Polaroid experiments related to my novel, The Last Furies, forthcoming from Lost Telegram Press.


I have always depended
on the kindness of solitude
to acquaint me favorably
with the company of words.
We are dreamwalkers
punctuated by reveries
and long listless spells
of want.
Conjugal
in our misgiven symmetries,
our lives readily become us
by frayed skeins of intimacy
and sensual haunt.
I am happy to announce that I have signed on with Lost Telegram Press, a Canadian publisher, for the publication of my novel, The Last Furies.
It is encouraging to have found a supportive home for what is an experimental, multi-form novel, and I was especially drawn to the “old school” vision and ethos of Lost Telegram, in that every book is hand-made (using recycled materials), with an eye toward creating singular works of art. Or, as reflected in their objective: publishing as a means to a means, and not as a means to an end…with the ideals of archiving as one of the press’s foremost goals.

The Tokyo Lift-Off Film Festival is now live on Vimeo, and will run through June 1st. If you are interested in checking out our film The Bride (along with the other indie shorts that are being screened), here is the link: Checkout.liftoff.network/judges-select-shorts-tokyo-lift-off-2025/
You also have the option to cast a vote for your favorite film, if you are moved to do so. Here’s to creating and supporting indie cinema!

In the company
of numinous graces
and unremembered lots
Infinity counts upon
phenomenal breadth
and bandwidth
to maximize
its local market value
within the human plot.
Plots,
in a mysterious ceremony,
unending.
Ephemera becomes us,
if only briefly.
Ghosts, in lucid drag,
bare to the drifts
and unerring grace
of realms unending—
we, in human-rent shape,
exercise particles
in a quantum plot
of recall and dramatic flair—
these mortal coils,
shed, in frets and arpeggios,
scale by scale,
to give gospel
its stunning range of voice
and invincible slate.