A poem of mine, Thighbones, Clay, is up at Eunoia Review.
Posts in: 2020s
Another entry in the intermittently active Bookmarks series. This is actually a receipt not a bookmark, but I’ll allow it.
Sixty years ago today, one of the two men I was named after — my Opa Nicolaas — dropped dead suddenly as he was getting into a cab in ’s-Gravenhage, his arms laden with Sinterklaas presents.
72: United States of Letterpress (Starshaped Press)
73: Nat’l Parks (Denali)
A late entry to the Bookmark project. I pulled a book off the shelf just now and stumbled on this:
Well, it’s 8:45 on a Sunday night. Time to drink too much wine, revise old poems until they’re indecipherable, and listen to this on repeat.
My (Small Press) Writing Day
Are you looking through the bent-back tulips to see how the other half lives? Well, now you can satisfy your literary voyeurism without all that skulking under windows or peering furtively through the hedge! My (Small Press) Writing Day
How I Build Things
Writer’s block is the unwillingness to crawl. — Eve L. Ewing (1) I wasn’t always an early riser, but at some point in the first year or so after college, I had a temp job that started at about six in the morning. For two months, in the darkest stretch of winter, I woke at four, stunned and blasted like an atomic atoll. I clung to my little kitchen table, stared blankly out at the silence.
71: Autumn Trilogy (Elm)
72: United States of Letterpress (Starshaped Press)
A Day in the Life
Minneapolis, 05:30 CDT
How I begin every morning
tea for her
coffee
and the blank page
for me