My little poem ‘Dot’ is now live with Hot Metal Bridge’s new issue; you can find it here: http://hotmetalbridge.org/backthen/dot/
The weather, the weather. It feels as un-moored and undecided as I have, lately. Most days I’m just letting the words swamp across my eyes and hoping I’m taking away from it all what I’d like to. Sam Harris’ book has had this effect: would I feel the way I do now about rain if not for all the poetry? Why do all of my favorite poems feature it? If you put the word ‘grey’, with an ‘e’, in a poem, I’m going to love it. Our brains are machines indeed but what fucking strange machines.