Category Archives: Currently reading

The Execution On the night of the execution a man at the doormistook me for the coroner. “Press”, I said.  But he didn’t understand. He led me into the wrong roomwhere the sheriff greeted me: “You’re late Padre.”  “You’re wrong,” I told him. “I’m Press.” “Yes. Of course, Reverent Press.” We went down a stairway.  “Ah, […]

Curt rudely brief briefly rude Nelson Ball from Fingerprinting Inkoperated, 1998) This has been sitting at my desk for years. It reminds of the ephemeral, instructs on letting go.

That as a post title frankly makes me nervous but it is what it is, a pattern of structure for the title. Confirmation Bias, I knew it would be My soul is crushed. There is no light. I can not see. I cannot fight. But what I know, must be right, ever only specious. my […]

Now and again I come across John Stevenson’s haiku old slippersthe comfortcoming apart Stevenson at Modern Haiku but then, there’s this other small perfection of his doe nestledinto the shapeof the ditch Stevenson’s Some of the Silence Not a hair out of place in this small awarenesses. Nothing extraneous and yet they reach wider than […]

Kate Braid as a carpenter, as a capable woman. As a queer woman holding space for herself and others. This poem and poet struck me hard. Recipe for a Sidewalk  Pouring concrete is just like baking a cake. The main difference isthat first you build the pans. Call them forms. Think grand.Mix the batter with […]