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I have a confession: I don’t always follow the wandering melodies and folkie funky cocktails that are Ani DiFranco’s songs. Sometimes I hear parts in her arrangements and wish they weren’t there, or I hear a hook that wasn’t made a hook but kept a fleeting musical utterance, and sometimes, while I love charming mistakesContinue reading “Happy All the Time”

  Black plastic bag filled with plastic bags and the rest of his things like newspapers a moth-bitten sweater an umbrella and a transistor radio he bought at Radio Shack in 1983 been with him through everything.   Takes the same table every time sets up his house sprawls out magazines and a notepad writesContinue reading ““Sam””

The smile of a passing dog, suburban afternoon, worn, wandering, taking paces in my American day.   Mothers crowd the square, nannies trail behind them, children zoom, high on caffeine dreams.   All roads closed, smartphone says so, newspapers cling to newsstands, obsolete like milkmen.   Snowflakes, unrepeatable structures fall in the predictable day, meltContinue reading ““Blizzard””

  “He’s just a shitty businessman.” | “She married up.” | “He’s a kid; give him a break.” | “I bet he doesn’t speak English.” | “I’m an entrepreneur.” | “We’re working-class Americans who want our country back.” | “Family-oriented.” | “Monogamous.” | “Like serial monogamist.” | “I’m poly.” | “Dyke.” | “Faggot.” | “As,Continue reading ““Slots””

  I don’t know what a poet is, but here’s a page with my blood on it. I don’t know who the artists are, but I made you something. I don’t know if there’s a God, but sometimes I see ghosts.   I don’t know what success is, but I think we’re doing okay withContinue reading ““I don’t know . . . ””