I’m here to tell you that building a poem with 29 other poets has shivered my timbers and set my castle alight. Read down, and you will see my line, bold and italicized, emerge like a flying monkey from the otherwise well-mannered unfolding. I think it may be carrying a torch. Or is that my hair on fire? (Terror, you cannot defeat me.)

The Secret Inside the Book

I’m fidget, friction, ragged edges—
I sprout stories that frazzle-dazzle, Continue reading →