Tag Archives: the writing life

Monkeys and Barrels

None of it was going anywhere. It had been a while. Both things were true. Both could be beginnings. So let’s go with both: None of it was going anywhere. It had been a while. I felt like a dehydrated … Continue reading

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Fleur de Lis

This world,beyond this world,splitting into festive atoms,called upon this woman,beyond this woman,to air with no discretionthe favored breathof blue rosesfalling.

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On the Nature of Writing

Begin at the beginning. Who am I? Who is the voice asking who am I? Who is the who observing the voice asking who am I? Who is the who eternally taking notes on the who observing the voice who … Continue reading

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Claim for the Meek

I do not want to see the face of God. I want to see her mask, where and for whom it cracked, the causal history of lines and fissures; want to trace, with blind mute innocence, the light quartered and … Continue reading

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No One Dreams In Color

Completed draft of my sixth novel: No One Dreams in Color.

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In the Realm of Imagination

K., at home, in his sanctuary of a work-space. From The Jackdaw and the Doll (written by John Biscello, illustrated by Izumi Yokoyama).

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New York to New Mexico

My interview on the podcast, What’s Up ABQ, is now streaming (2/10). I had a blast talking with Chris and Ryan, not only about my new poetry book, Moonglow on Mercy Street, but also the world of comics, Choose Your … Continue reading

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Blue Boy

   There’s something wrong with him, my father said. Look at him. Something’s not right. Something happened to him. He’s sick. All he thinks about is writing. That’s all he thinks about. He is blue.    Even though I wasn’t … Continue reading

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Before the Big Bang Makes A Sound

Listen closely. You will hear the rhythmical jazz of a leaky faucet. The creaking floorboards in the attic of memory. The sound of a heart crunching beneath the weight of a life, and then again, that heart’s resilient rising announced … Continue reading

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Illuminations

“You know of course that slowness is the only illumination I’ve ever had.” — Peter Handke, The Afternoon of a Writer A writer, fastening his worth to the tempo of grass, to the yellow leaves separating their grief from their … Continue reading

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