This is an ode to the press. I write a lot of these leading up to publications I care about. This one was unique, I sketched on some boxes, used some spray paint and some sharpies. In the space above what is captured in this photograph are three parallel rivers, the Ganges, the Susquehanna, and the Lethe.
I live in place where I am inundated with imagery of three rivers and bridges. Choosing my three rivers and doing so in an ode to the press felt like an empowering experience that I return to often.
The legato of language and lingo, The dance of diction and dialect — Have you ever considered the difference A little letter or two can effect? Texture of tense, Savor of sense, The nuance in a sentence — What’s really
Meet Zask and Zisk, See them venture forth — They know little About the destination, Only that it’s an energy station On a big blue world Known to locals as Earth. “Look at that!” Exclaims Zask, “We are in luck
The very essence of love is uncertain, A relentless thumping of the heart. I must speak to you by such means as they are within my reach. He pierces my soul driving me into madness. I am half agony, half
The moon awaits eagerly in the same pedestal it ignited my passion. What lips, my lips have kissed, are long forgotten. The memories easily quickened as a few puddles along the way I voluntarily stepped in. What arms have lain