Sound sets ground humming — worms writhe from my brother & sisters onto bleached white surfaces, laughing clouds of ash, rising powder of anti-gravity. Everything afraid throbs tirelessly against windows unseen. Washing uncertainty suffers me & pastels pour from torn sky. Across stringed lights ants march to resemble the form nights take, always beginning as blood orange Turner sunsets black. Vertigo yells us inside, high again &

I. “While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal.” — 2 Corinthians 4:18 “My hunch is that the affective outline of what we’ve lost…

My poetry chapbook, While This Human Engine Waits, has now been released by Epigraph Magazine! Quite a few of poems selected have been published individually throughout the past four years, but this collection (and the sequencing) took a little time. The most impressive piece of the whole work for me was the wonderful cover photograph and design. Thank you to Lianne Guerra Jepson and Thomas Doughty for lending their amazing talents to create such a striking cover.

1.1. Obsession as Fuel David Lynch always returns to important influences in his art, as evidenced by the childhood memories found in the text and imagery of his paintings, the obsessive focus on stark contrasts of light and shadow in his photography and cinema, and a deep reservoir of knowledge of the space in…

When reading articles via the internet, it’s probably a good idea to just steer clear of the comments section. This is especially true when reading something that is related to issues of equity or accessibility for all. Trolling in the form of racist, sexist, and other fear-fueled rants can seem…

“Every creative act is first an act of destruction.” — Pablo Picasso “I believe in a deeply ordered chaos.” -Francis Bacon, interviewed by Melvyn Bragg in 1985 (Link to Video) I don’t write reviews in the traditional sense. I’ve learned how to critique a work of art through a proper…

Maybe reflection is the best thing To be a reminder of color & light Something to hold us in the rain That seems to keep falling in love With this green city again & again Purple petals fall from flower pots Hanging outside of grey windows Everything living breathes the steam Rising from the slippery earth sliding Our shared history into the sea A curtain of white capped peaks Women & men walk halos here

under a tent in a former military fort on Staten Island & finished with my fastest time at the distance to date. But, now I am drinking my fourth Scotch three years & many morning runs later & I am exhausted. I won’t rise early to race tomorrow. I’ll have a slow morning planned Enjoying the quiet of our bed. Anna is not drinking Scotch. She is drinking Zombies. We’ll both need more time to digest.

“Those who love wisdom must investigate many things.” — Heraclitus “I write-and talk-in order to find out what I think.” — Susan Sontag In 2014, I graduated with my doctorate in education, and this seemed miraculous to me. A sustained focus, logical arguments, and the synthesis of an area of…