My poem, “to the howl,” is in Issue VI of a journal called scissors and spackle. If you read this blog regularly, you’ve already read the poem, but if you feel so inclined, you may click here and read it on the journal’s website, which I would argue is a lot more exciting than reading something on my blog (but maybe that’s just me). You can also purchase a print copy of the issue, if you feel like supporting this awesome publication.
I guess having a poem in a journal officially makes me a poet. But I think I’ll have to get another publication or two under my belt before I’m convinced it wasn’t a fluke. I do have a special love for this poem, though, perhaps because it’s so weird and so unlike the other poems I write–though I write poems so seldom, I’m not sure I can claim to have established a “style.” I’m not making any sense today. It’s too hot in Portland. The sun has fried my brain. Yes, that must be it.
I’ll stop typing now so you can read the poem, forget about my mindless yammering, and go back to believing I’m still capable of coherent thought–that is, as much as you were (or weren’t) ever convinced of that to begin with.