I wrote an essay about the transformative power of the erotic as a catalyst for social change for Seattle Arts & Lectures.
Working that walk so hard it hurts, it hurts, walking home in someone else’s high heels. You were who you were before you came here— a small animal, wandering, a drink in your hand. It hurts, walki…
Source: After the Party Pantoum
Sunday morning cast wide your nets. Nimble fingers tickle down a harvest of therapists for adolescents, depressed yet still trotting out to-do lists. Our listless rider of the emotional waterbed. W…
Source: Some Kind of Sonnet
Thank you, PANK, for publishing my prose poem “The Gods’ Funniest Home Videos.” This poem was inspired by Sandra Suarez, a woman who ripped off her clothes, rampaged through a McDonald’s and guzzled soft serve straight from the nozzle. Her rage resonated with me. As I watched, I felt such kinesthetic empathy with her actions. Both the power and futility of tearing up an evil place with bareskinned strength. She was having a bi-polar episode and some asshole employees videotaped it and now the whole world has watched and laughed at this woman in crisis. Every report describes her as “mother of two.” Female rage and motherhood, capitalism and nutrition, surveillance and Shadenfreude, oh human mammals and the stories we weave to keep safe. Read it here:
Tahoma Literary Review published my long poem “Oblique Strategies For Self-Knowledge That Had A Lot of Energy But Are Ultimately Depressing Because Hope Is Eclipsed by That Self-Loathing Marauder Who Loots Everything.” Read it here.
Thank you, Elizabeth Bradfield, “the naturalist” in this poem, for showing me your snapshots of adolescent whales wrestling with their 8-foot-long pink penises that I can never unsee. Thank you, Mark Bibbons at The Awl, for publishing this poem.
Profanity Hill: A Tour of Yesler Way is an art and heritage collaborative project, using community cartography to map our experiences on and memories of Seattle’s oldest path, Yesler Way, from Pioneer Square on Elliott Bay through the ID, CD, and on down to Leschi on the shore of Lake Washington.