Updated: Jul 10, 2020
mornings like this remind me that there is more
the world goes on and on forever around the next bend
the next draw or downed tree it’s own universe alive and unsolved
there is no possibility like this to stand for a moment or longer
cast after cast an admission how small a space my breath occupies
the sun follows its own arc behind the clouds deliberate as my line now taut in the current
Not here. You fuckers cannot follow me here. His dad looked over his shoulder from the tailgate at Charlie, standing in the tall grass...
In just a short couple weeks, I’ll be heading out to Colorado for the 2015 Breckenridge Film Festival. As some of you may already know,...
I unearthed my old grad school poet’s notebook this morning. Cracking the cover, I found a sheaf of paper that held several iterations of...
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