In Conversation

Shakespeare’s Candle I met a poet that had 12-state acclaim. His eyes looked down on me even though we were the same height. I told him I was fortunate to meet him. His shifted stance said that was obvious. I asked him about his process. He sneered like a prince amongst peasants. “Process?” he laughed. …

Pump Truck Paupers Men become aisles, sections, stockers before the sun comes up, names on nametags no one will remember, puffy black eyes like idiot raccoons working an overnight hustle, pump truck paupers pushing pallets into place, the snapping of wood under a great weight, labels faced outward for pleasing effect, masking injuries with a …

Into the Earth Put me in a coffin where sunlight does not get in. Shadows are alright. I will let them in as I go into the earth. Buried in my finest suit, leave the handkerchief out. Under branches and soft grass and some flowers, my face toward the sky. That is my right. I …

The Most Interesting Man in the World His grimy cuffed jeans hung off his backside His two-tone sweatshirt was better suited for winter Perspiration plastered his brown hair to his skull He wobbled when he walked His hand-stained cardboard sign read: Help He walked between expensive, airconditioned cars silently begging for anything When he looked …

Breaking Bread At a restaurant On Montrose we are seated at the ‘community table’ There are three other couples Already seated we order our food and the couples talk only to their spouse Its awkward so we mostly talk about the food Isn’t this good? Here, try this! Next time, I’m ordering that! I feel …

The language of flowers I think of tonight’s Thai food restaurant, and the lemongrass soup. Now it’s nearly midnight. I forgot roses in the back seat of my car from a nice man who took me to dinner and went home. Instead, I reflect on the language I share with another, of syllables and metaphors …

THE DEAD POETS LIST In my lifetime I’ve probably written over a hundred trillion words. But I’d die for just one more cigarette. When the curtain falls, when the moment ceases To be. Sinatra said it best. “That’s Life” To go out with a bang Not that stupid whimper And leave something for them to …

Such Tiny Ambitions The bro-culture, podcasting, manosphere spent years raging about cancel culture, beating their chests, swearing all they wanted was free speech, the ability to be authentic without woke inquisitors breathing down their necks. They spoke of masculine preemption the way some speak of rigged elections: with conviction and little evidence. Every microphone became …

A Limited Number of Miracles by Jonathan Penton Jonathan Penton’s A Limited Number of Miracles from Lavender Ink is an ambitious, deeply personal, and intellectually demanding collection that transforms a walk through the Sydney and Walda Besthoff Sculpture Garden in New Orleans into a meditation on grief, memory, art, and the limits of language. Structured …

Scalding or Frozen “…long walks in pitch black tunnels…” April Ridge We all have an entourage of broken mirrors with different viewing angles. Sometimes you can’t see yourself through this seemingly evil funhouse, but you know you’re still there, with various ghosts lurking behind and above you. Surrounding your pitch black tunnels. Preparing to fall …