Freelance writer living in Brooklyn, NY.
Sitting on a sandbar in South Carolina. we swam today in the surf off of Sullivan Island. we stepped on sand dollars and dived underwater.
The dog days of summer are here. you can feel the dead air clinging to the trees. the water evaporating from the sky.
It was a miracle. there was a small window that opened up. windows like that open rarely and are invariably small.
Social media belches the world as I drink a roast pot of dead rat coffee beans. the world is a burnt toast offering the mildew of a
Couple of dogs sitting by my side. I’m in Fort Bragg on the edge of nowhere. this is the first poem of the year. the year is 2019. there is a low hum from
Life is good in these waning days of the American Century. I'm at Coffee and Donuts on Ditmas and Coney Island Ave. sucking on an iced coffee
We march on command we pour wine at the signal give them the rolls hot we bring up the bloody appetizers and wait for them to feed
Here's a lively coffee shop. I'm at Stab Witches Coffee located on Brookhurst BLVD and Westminster Drive in Orange County.