Ghost Buffalo

A poem of mine is featured on Verse Daily this morning, which was picked up from the current issue of Rattle: Videlock on Verse Daily And an upcoming reading:

Videlock/The Hopkins Review

My hermitage continues.   It too is addictive. Though my pace is considerably slowed, and my words are reserved for the page, the poets come visit, the moon goes large, the deer continue to graze.   If we're talking all the time and opining  and opining  and opining all the time surely something dies.   My son has set about convincing me that Instagram is more my pace, particularly for selling art.   I have assured him it's on my list of things to investigate.  Along with shadow, shape, and form, and other things that lie still, and germinate.  

 November saves its words, then explodes. Its brilliance ferries in  the cold.  It blurs the line  between the holy and the ghost,  the parachute and the river boat, the omen and the grace note.  

The pleasures of poetry are subversive, and perhaps always have been: Why Bother with Poetry ?  Stallings TLS

Denver gives me panic, but it's full of friendlies, and we get to visit our son in Golden when in the area.  Thanks to Joe Hutchison for the invitation, and to all old friends who came out to BookBar Saturday night.  I was surprised and humbled by the turnout. On Being Asked How Went the Reading It was lovely it was luscious but why is it I  love  and  cannot trust  the world of malls,  a rebel with out a cause or the sound         of applause.