What Survives
My poem “What Survives” was just published by Panoply, a Literary Zine. A cento is a poetic form composed entirely of lines from poems by other poets. It comes from the Latin word for patchwork.
What Do Trees Talk About?
Now that we know how they signal each otherthrough root hairs and fungal threads of meaning,will we ever learn to read these signalsand know what it is they talk aboutin the dark loamy layers below? Surely there must be moreto their talk than survivalas when insects or fires threaten,just as we sapiens came to learngrunts
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Imaginary Garden
My poem “Imaginary Garden” has just been published in New Myths Magazine Issue #67 https://sites.google.com/newmyths.com/newmythscomissue67b/issue-67-stories/imaginary-garden It has also been nominated for a Readers Choice Award. If you go to the home page (https://sites.google.com/newmyths.com/newmyths-com-home/home-page) you can read and rank the nominated poems and stories.
Memory Care
I have long been fascinated by science fiction and often write poetry in this genre. Here is my latest offering, which suddenly decided it wished to become a shape poem. It was just published in issue #66 of NewMyths.com, a quarterly online magazine of science fiction and fantasy. You can read it here: https://sites.google.com/newmyths.com/newmyths-com-issue-66/issue-66-stories/memory-care
After Hearing the Young Black Poet
It is very unusual for a literary journal to publish a previously published poem, especially one that has appeared in another journal. I am honored to appear here in Tipton Poetry Journal (see page 20). https://issuu.com/tiptonpoetryjournal/docs/tpj59 This poem, by the way, is from my second poetry collection, The Museum of Unwearable Shoes.
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A Young Man’s Journey Through Hell
While the world does seem like it’s going to hell, here’s a fun video I made when I published my young adult novel, My Vacation in Hell. It’s a sequel to The Family That Wasn’t, in which John, a sexual abuse victim and frequent flyer of his imagination, must find a way out of the
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Write Me a Poem
about the death of an old dogdying alone by the side of a road,growling softly as he thinks ofthat calico cat he so despisedand loved to chase,remembering the last stroke behind his earsby the homeless old womanwho lived in the underpass. My chatbot muse pauses briefly,then out pours a poemabout a quantum poochwho exists in
Two Poems
The Burping Seal A lone Tupperware with sky blue lid, it lives on in my kitchen, a reminderof all it once held—loving leftovers of Mom’s greasy kugel or kielbasa,mincemeat cookies, coleslaw or apple pie. Its skin is worn soft from fifty yearsof washing and handling. Back and forthit went from her place to mine. I