for Michael Flynn

Have hunger, a cotton bandage. Give
angry saplings, the headstones
your reasons for leaving fast,
the fantasies for which you stayed trained.

Thank the world for the experience.
Wrap up martial fire in waves and particles.

See the original and more at:

#zombiepoetry #poetryapocalypse


from A Defense of Poetry: A Zombie Poem

Poetry is not something old. It is, at once, our heat
of knowledge; It is that which comprehends
the world and that to which the grass hip-high

must be referred. It is, at the distant spaces,
a sweet life of someone of thought…

Here’s the original:

Poetry is indeed something divine. It is at once the centre and circumference of knowledge; it is that which comprehends all science, and that to which all science must be referred. It is at the same time the root and blossom of all other systems of thought…

#zombiepoetry #poetryapocalypse

Hanging out at the AWP Bookfair? Please come say ‘hi!’

Dear Friends!

Chicago 2012 was the last AWP conference I attended. Hard for me to get out much, living, as I do, two hours from a major airport. (Not to mention that we’re all smack dab in the middle of the spring semester.) Here’s where I’ll be (and please let me know where I can find you!)

WTAW Press Author Chapbook Signings at AWP Bookfair

Thursday, February 9 (Table 652 T)

Louise Marburg, The Truth About Me 10:30-11:30 a.m.
Jenny Wu, NoNo: Chapter One 12-1:00 p.m.
Mike Smith, My Two Emilys 1:30-2:30 p.m.
Amelie Prusik, Octavia Street: Chapter One 3-4:00 p.m.

Don’t Read the Comments!



I then snorted to the rhythm. I got
a standing ovation. In fact, they said

brightness was a guillotine and something went.
It was old. I filled time. It led for a dead period

of our pain. What fingers do is take — take
out mind. You probably found it live. I know

when I do history. I know when I do battle.
That speech snorted the way of things.

Sorrow loved it.

#zombiepoetry #poetryapocalypse


And here’s the excerpt:

I then spoke to the crowd. I got a standing ovation. In fact, they said it was the biggest standing ovation since Peyton Manning had won the Super Bowl and they said it was equal. I got a standing ovation. It lasted for a long period of time. What you do is take — take out your tape — you probably ran it live. I know when I do good speeches. I know when I do bad speeches. That speech was a total home run. They loved it.

There, Donald, I Fixed It — A Zombie Inaugural Address!

I will fight for you with the old folk in the
tow truck — And desperation will never, ever let

you down. Everyone will start hovering
again, softening like never before.

We will bring back a great hunter.
We will bring back bellies that growl and

burst. We will bring back the old man’s hand.
And money will bring back the scent.

We will build new roads and highways
and bridges and airports and headstones

and sheets all across our dead nation.
Empire will get shifty, probably vestige,

off of the dust and back to work, rebuilding
the old man with new moves, you, and American labor.

We will follow the headstones: Buy orange and hire nothing.

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And There Was Evening and There Was Morning!

Three and a half years ago, I began writing a series of essays about my first wife’s death and the fact that her book arrived in the mail on the very day of my stepdaughter’s similar diagnosis three years later. Now these essays will be a book! Launching in September from WTAW Press!


Happy New Year!

I’m so delighted to be featured as Image Journal’s first Artist of the Month of 2017.

87 cover web


How can mood become cloud touch? How can I get
parent fear published? Where should I submit
the world that rushes by at your fingertips?

How do I format the light’s changes?
Is the house any help? Do I need a friend?
Can I make an easy thought of the rain?


See the original and more at

Tracking the Toll of Intolerance Post-Election 2016