Pull from favorite music blossoming in earbuds— that stairway into other worlds. Cease the chatter of powered creatures and they will let you deserved leave to hear a drip from the faucet which properly perceived is a forest facing the open window and its family of hewn sounds that tell us the time and set…
I am at the entrance of a stone staircase built into the side of Antigua, Guatemala’s Cerro de la Cruz, Hill of the Cross. This is the beginning of a an 8k run dubbed some years back the “Suicide Death Run Sponsored by The Sore Calves Inc.” Every bit of the 8k is different degrees…
There’s a promised land we are all searching for. All of our inclinations and addiction, remoteness, disagreement and whatnot have been put aside as we align every impulse, action and affection towards it. We picture the land flowing with remorseless hills fluent in all dialects of pasture and privy to the whispers of late summer…
Today, after a day kayaking with my family on the river, I visited my grandfather and he reminisced about his love, my grandmother Patricia Mees Armstrong. When my Grandma died, I felt no closure. Hadn’t she just emailed me telling me how excited she was for my visit? Didn’t I have a plane ticket…
In memory of my poet grandmother, Patricia Mees Armstrong. The Italicized lines are taken from her verse. Poetry of the Dead from my poetry collection How We Are Human.
We cornered happiness in the back of the alley behind the pub Ambivalence and we said “stick Em up.” But happiness was quicker in the draw and shot us in the leg. After physical therapy we hung up fliers around town: Happiness, we’re coming to getcha, ya hear? “Happiness quivered in its boots” was how we…
At a BBQ early today somebody brought Nickel Nips. Do you know what Nickel Nips are? Even if you think you don’t, yes, you do. Remember these little guys from your sweet tooth teething childhoods? Anyways, I twisted two together and put them in a tree, because… that’s just the sort of stuff you do…
A few years back I was dating a girl and we did not agree on acceptable levels of flatulence in our lives. I felt that within the confines of our own apartments, a few accidental vapor babies every hour or so was fine. But we did not smell nose to nose on this. She noticed…
We were having a meeting (because you know, we had a conference table at the after-after party in Toronto, so why not) when the game emerged from the cockroach corner of our minds and spread through our veins until Storyawesomein, the neurotransmitter responsible for storying telling, became strong with us. This could be one of those had-to-be-there…
Where would Jack Kerouac live today if he was still bouncing around New York? Answer: Bushwick. Obviously… Those who live or spend time in the area have noticed: Bushwick right now is NYC’s latest front of exciting new and emerging artists. From music, to art, poetry and prose, Bushwick is a place of dedicated artists toeing the…
