Cosmonauts Avenue - So That We May See Eternal


I write occassionally about art, renewal, healing, love, and science. Or maybe none of those things. But when I write something I don’t feel fits anywhere else, I will put it here

I’ve also begun re-publishing my dog photopoems on Medium under the heading DOG IS US.

If you visit these pubs, be sure to CLAP! 

Sunday Salon, SalonZine (In The Upside Down)

Story: A Belief in Endings

Excerpt: Online love affairs, maybe even more than in-person love affairs, have the tendency to be about The Self. The relationship takes place so much in the imagination, and we see ourselves in everything The Other does and says. Nuance is often lost in text messages. Meanings are assumed or misinterpreted by what and how we think or have thought. We look for The Self in The Other. And, when the relationship is over, we are left vulnerable to experiencing the strange variety of loss that comes from not finding it.


Cosmonauts Avenue - So That We May See Eternal

Cosmonauts Avenue

Essay: So That We May See Eternal (Site Being Rebuilt)

Excerpt: The time on that clock is forever frozen at 11:25. And that forever- frozen clock face, that perpetually mid-morning moment, would happen in a non-photographed version of that exact same scene if I were to move away from myself at a speed faster than the speed of light. The subsequent seconds would never catch up to my smiling semblance, the proceeding particles of light, a still procession. My teeth would forever remain missing. My hair, forever brown and shaggy. And yet…

Barrelhouse (The 90s Online Issue)

Story: Waiting for the Day to End

Excerpt: One of us eventually covered the cushions with a tie-dyed wall tapestry and that seemed to solve the germ predicament. The tapestry always wound up getting pulled off the cushions, though, so that eventually one of us would have to break down and re-position it. But after a while, we stopped caring so much whether or not the tapestry kinked up in the cracks. Eventually, we’d just let it. Because now we were the college kids who did college things on the couch cushions, most of which were disgusting.


Rappahannock Review 1.2
The Rappahannock Review (Issue 1.2)

The zero. The nothing. Reciting the zeros is all about repetition.
Zero is persuasive. Zero is full of ego.
Throw in a goddamned zero, and the other number becomes a zero. Every time. I swear it to you.
This is not bullshit.
No matter how old you are, you will eventually be zero.
It doesn’t matter what the other number is, how proud or how big or how small.
Go up against a zero and you become a zero. Every time. I swear it to you. This is not bullshit


Missouri Review Audcast, Episode 24

Three Poems

This little triptych of poems sprang forth in quick succession during a period of intense sadness and transformation where I was shedding some old stuff to make way for some new. What all three poems have in common is the theme of divorce and the associated feelings of loss (of love, of life, of identity). One of the poems is about an abortion. Another is about perceptions of self around the concept of masculinity. The pieces are part of a larger collection I am building around these themes. An interesting side note is that each poem also draws inspiration from a particular Mad Men episode. Somehow that show feels deeply important to my life in a way I can’t adequately explain coherently. And maybe that’s what poetry is for: to adequately explain things incoherently.


Miller Audcast Episode 24
CRATE (Issue 7, Spring 2011)
Story: Eating Sushi At Stoplights (Read here)

Excerpt: I’ve been washing clothes for a woman that used to wash mine. And I’ve been helping her put them on right after she comes out of the bathroom all inside out. And it makes me remember one of her favorite stories to tell used to be about the time I put my rain boots on by myself at daycare. And how I came stomping out to the car all proud and smiling and with the boots on the wrong feet. And how when I got into the car, I said to her, Mom, I put my boots on by myself. And how she said, I see that.She knew I fucked it up. But she never said anything. It probably wasn’t the first time she did that. It definitely wasn’t the last.It’s good to have people you can make mistakes in front of.

The Good Men Project

Excerpt: From “The Hourglass” … The people I love are grains of sand in an hourglass. And they’re starting to slip through the narrow curve at the center.And I am the hourglass. And the longer I stand upright, the more the weight shifts, and the more empty I feel up top.And every day I think about breaking that fucker. And putting an end to this slow, terrible drip.

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