the a list

Quilts Sewn from what’s on hand, Scraps of love, and comfort, and longing. Each square tethered to the next Like family at the table.  Threaded with tea and troubles. Steeped in unspoken sorrows and sequestered joys. These disembodied fabric versions of ourselves,  Linger over the dreams of our daughters and sons  In forms and memories  we might not always abide. Published in Gravitas Dec 2019

  Got a short, polite email at 7:00 AM this morning from Craig at Zoarium Magazine.   I even got an (entirely unnecessary) apology for taking a vacation and still responding within 11 days.  It was nice to find a home for this poem.  It is filled with ancient memories of my mother's parents (and donuts!)

  Over Near the Big Christian Indian in Lowell I got to a Lowell cemetery to the gravesite of Jack Kerouac. They say that information Is just alienated experience. That’s just another way of saying life is more fucked up than the news. So, it follows that the grave is just alienated information about a life. Senseless too.  Senseless as Jack, whose is dead,  and oblivious to the rhythms of you and your soulmate making love to the idea of screwing near Jack,  and each other. Drunk on Cognac or boredom You’ll eventually come to terms  With how separate anything afterlife is. It’s more meaningless than information.  Less than memory, or being hated,  or sharing a smoke with your soulmate  after a good lay in the graveyard. Published in Duck Lake Books August 2019

  Impossible The drawers are lined with messages from the dead, Scattered in with the papers, clips, and keys. These messages - Musty whispers and jots,  Receipts and ticket stubs, Fill the drawers, All the drawers, In all the desks,  In all the buildings,  They are needing transmission to the living. When your time comes  To transmit -  Be it grief or joy - Leave a message in the drawer, So the living might know. Published in Superpresent Magazine, Fall 2021  

  Its been probably 20 years since I last spent time with paint and canvas.  In June I took a stab at it again.  I bought some cheap materials at Ocean State Job Lot and started to revive my chops.  This is the first of several posts of paintings that I've completed since June 2023.  This painting connects back to an influence I discovered near Soho, NY in my 20s.  I wandered into a studio and found the works of James Coignard - a French abstract artist who had the right touch of composition and grit to inspire me.   Later that day, visiting the Strand Book Store , I was lucky enough to find a copy of the limited edition book of his work.  That book is something I referred to regularly, and something to which I've reacquainted myself. But the years have added new inspirations and perspective.  I've incorporated my printmaking and other elements that I've worked through since 2019, as part of my recovery routine when I lost some motor fu...