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It’s About to Get Awkward
The Autobiographical Note
I walk through the gym doors. Steve is doing chest-flies. He yells
Hey, Flash! (Steve doesn’t know my name.)
Third Person, Past Tense
The sky...
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New Muses for a Posthuman Age
Late last year I wrote a 10 sonnet sequence entitled New Muses for a Posthuman Age, the idea being to update the goddesses and answer...
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To Dart Along
Not to dart along. Stilled. Here.
A life painted on. Dry docked.
No shoal, no fleet. Alone.
Not line caught. Scales of grain crack.
Unworked, unworking. Stopped. Stopped.
The...
