Sometimes I fancy myself a writer. There’s a town where I live, it’s a small place, but we’re renowned for our sizable contributions to junk food culture, and about the only things for a fella to do around here are get drunk, smoke grass, and compose a mess of semi-automatic poetry.


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8 thoughts on “About

  1. I found the link to your poem for Michael Scholnick on Ron Silliman’s blog. I remember Michael’s glasses as having horn rims instead of wire, but think you captured his spirit, especially in the lines about his ironic and brooding spirit that could also be “as intimate as an elevator.” Thank you.

    1. I’m very glad that you enjoyed it! It’s almost criminal that not many people know of his body of work. I found Clinch at a used bookstore and after reading the first two poems in there, I was hooked.

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