Life Brims. Shearing Day. Sláinte. Thousands of June bugs rising from the grass like metal green automatons, bumbles on the incandescent orange cosmos (as if they were feeding on the whole cosmos) some falling asleep as they feed a blithering of pollinators only to be believed if seen and tomatoes beyond eating. That’s ok because…

Here is a piece of my life, not a horcrux exactly, but a fractal slice, raw (the emphasis on raw) creative material that usually ends up mostly on the cutting room floor of artistic choice. I include it here so that we can annotate it together if you wish.  To summarize: we live on a…

Retirement has proven to be a struggle, but at least it hasn’t been a stubbly, weak-shit aftermath.  That is why I wrote this poem in solidarity with all of humanity, quick or gone.  I am not suggesting that we, passive and silent, carry on with our weight. Yes, do keep on. Wail like the tornado…