The writer Joanna C Valente said that “A trauma is a funeral for one; there is no one to mourn you but yourself. The coffin is empty, since you are still alive, but you must fill it with something, and that becomes your former self.” Or it becomes a book of poems. Better Luck Next… Continue reading Better Luck Next Year is officially for sale!
So in just three days Better Luck Next Year will be out in the world. As I’ve said before I’m really excited for you guys to meet this book. We’re having a little reading party with Jason Irwin, author of A Blister of Stars and John Grochalski whose new book Wine Clerk is now out.… Continue reading Better Luck Next Year: or How I Learned To Talk About My Boobs
Howdy from the hot garbage smell that is Brooklyn in the summertime! Yummy! So real quick, couple of thank yous before we get to the nitty gritty on the books, books, books. First off thanks to Anti-Heroin Chic for taking these three poems and to Your One Phone Call for this one. Speaking of poetry,… Continue reading Books are Coming! Books are Here! Books Books Books!
Cancer is a rare and still scandalous subject for poetry; and it seems unimaginable to aestheticize the disease. -Susan Sontag from Illness as Metaphor Cancer poems, meet the whole world. Whole world, meet the cancer poems. Low Ghost Press. Out July 23rd. It’s a limited edition 100 copy run. I’m eternally grateful to Kris… Continue reading Better Luck Next Year
*Yes it’s a David Bowie reference. Yes, I’m still upset. Leave me alone. We must always work, and a self-respecting artist must not fold his hands on the pretext that he is not in the mood. If we wait for the mood, without endeavoring to meet it half-way, we easily become indolent and apathetic. We… Continue reading Where the Fuck Did May Go?*