Tag Archives: the writing life

Window

From the series, Japan Poems. Rainy day, through the upstairs window at the café, framed within the wrought-iron railing enclosing the stone ledge on which the potted plants sit, women in summer kimonos carrying closed umbrellas.

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Springing Forth

As I sit here at my retreat enclave, feeling gratefully reflective and enjoying buttery afterglow effects, today in looking back through my records I realized: the three novels I have completed over the past three years–The Last Furies, No One … Continue reading →

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Soul Food

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Novel Origins

New novel completed.Bardo jazz, psychic vaudeville, bop odyssey of internal consciousness…. For me it’s always been the novel living within is the possession, the spirits dancing their jig of the dead and living, and the novel written is the prolonged, … Continue reading →

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Rock and a Hard Place

“In a world like this one, it’s difficult to devote oneself to art body and soul. To get published, to get exhibited, to get produced often requires ten or twenty years of patient, intense labor. I spent half my life … Continue reading →

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The Writing Life

I have always depended on the company of words.

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Tender is the Night

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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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