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SMALL TOWN CHECK-UP
2008-04-23 11:40:00
by Terry BrixCheck ed out Belcherville, TX trash embeddedIn the weeds, plastic bags shredded by wind & sandLike a reputation torn with foul words, cleaver lies.Beer cans, Burma Shave signs, old store frontsSprouting fractured broken glass & tired dreams,Red River in the distance--memories of the old West.Glasgow, MT Air Force left the base two decades ago,Only thing landing & taking off are tumbleweeds.Base a ghost town, Glasgow town drying up so fastMud cracks, cakes & curls mute lips to utter silentWords that end in leave, gone, bye, lost, dead.These can be heard by people that have died or left.Vici, OK near the Oklahoma panhandleThe only life being drawn from two miles down.Brine 200 million year old seawater with a pinchOf iodine that drives the town economy so poorOtherwise streets & ramshackle buildings leaningOn each other like dying soldiers after battle.Blue River, OR a former gold & old growth timberTown plus the Cougar Dam reservoir in the 1930s.La...
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DRIVING AMERICA
2008-04-22 11:29:00
by Linda Lernera large white convertible cruisesinto late December, turning heads,a few rub their eyes, “wow, neat car,”someone yells, another gives a thumbs upto the white haired man behind the wheel;       ;    he nods back,just taking his baby out for a spin,not wired to twenty first century sound bytesno seat belts to strap him in      &nb sp;      &n bsp;      I t's 1959. His first car.“aint nothin’ but a hound dog” rocks;just out of college and ready to make newshe’s burning rubber in Brooklynthe country still riding I love Ike prosperity, victory in notjust one but future wars;what would have paidkids’college tuition, bought a nice homekeeps his engine running, heart beating:50 years and good as new,but every creak in the car’s struggleto push open its top echoes in his bonesmeans it’s back to finding a mechanicknows how to...
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WHAT IF THEY'D HAD
2008-04-21 11:23:00
by Steve Hellyard SwartzEmail in Lincoln's dayInstant Messaging in Alexander the Great'sVideo games in Jefferson'sCredit cards in Emily Dickinson'sKeno in Descartes'sGPS in Bret Harte'sDrive-Thrus in Walt Whitman'sHallmarks in Harriet Tubman'sWhat ifGeorge BushHigh from the rush and the black spewing gushOf a Midland/Odessa hardonKissed the pre-Jihadist Osama Bin LadenWhat if hippies really had stopped the warAnd Bush, with his heart turned to mush,Whispered (in his real voice, the voice which derivesfrom his Connecticut core)What on earthAre we fighting for?Steve Hellyard Swartz's poetry has appeared in New Verse News, Best Poem, switched-on guttenberg, levelpoetry, and The Kennesaw Review. An Honorable Mention winner in The Anna Davidson Rosenberg Poetry Competition, the Allen Ginsberg Poetry Awards, and the Mary C. Mohr Poetry Award, Swartz will be published in The Paterson Review and The Southern Indiana Review in 2008. In 1990, his film Never Leave Nevada opened in Dra...

AFTERTHOUGHT
2008-04-20 09:17:00
by David ChorltonAs long as there is onecall still among the treeswe listen. It is the cuckooand we remember the notesto repeat them when evenit has gone, the waythe mockingbirdslearned to imitatethe many ways our cell phones rang.David Chorlton has two new chapbooks posted online, The Dreaming House and Dry Heat. Both draw on life in Arizona._________________________________ _______

CHEER ON OUR NATIONAL GUARDERS
2008-04-19 12:12:00
by HLThose braveBoys with the StarsMarched up to the shrine of demonocracy.While they did the lying,We did the crying.You leaders,Tell our boys, “No more death!”We got no time for suffering& dying,Let the unwashed& unknowingDo it for us.Clear our memories of deep freezeWars,Use the oil on our highways.Sheikhs?Dress them up like Philistines.Keep us safe from KhyberSpying,Paint their faces with grotesqueStories,Make them murderersThat got no cool.Help us winThis climate conquest.Keep us on the airwaysFlying.Melt the snow on highestMountains,Blame it all onChinese coal.DemandBlood money at our gates,More credit!Save our sorryMortgaged asses.We shall be last to face our fates.HL is a computer-nerd bicyclist who cranks out poetry as he rides along prairie grass and gravel roads. He says, "War is not the Answer / Ride a Bicycle," and more at his HL link here and in the left column of The New Verse News.____________________________________ __________________
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HOW SACRED IS SACRED?
2008-04-18 11:06:00
by Barbara A. TaylorWe are devout victimsof a Church which misinterprets,expounds God’s word to meanthere is no love, no respectfor those less powerful, like cutechoir boys or orphans in their careWe are devout victims of a Churchwhich misinterprets, expounds God’s wordto mean there is no love, no respectfor those among us, one in threedeemed deviants. We are devout victimsof a Church which misinterprets, expoundsGod’s word to mean the bishop cannot be gay.Nuns and professors don’t do that, never did,and homosexuals do not pray, nor evershould they marry. But I have sung His gloryin cathedral choirs, taught catechismat the Sunday School, learned not to killor steal or hate. In middle-age I still rejoiceeach day I give my daily bread to beasts and man.Let no one hunger, starve from want ofhuman love, compassion.Everywhere every life is sacred:The girl, the boy, the woman, the manThe flashing lights of firefliesThe trees in bud, the hanging fruitsThe baby in her crib, gurgling...
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TUESDAY, A DAY LIKE ANY OTHER
2008-04-17 11:20:00
by Wayne CrawfordTen minute walk west of Abraham Lincoln’s tomb.4:20 p.m., April 17, 2007. Springfield, Illinois.An elderly man in long-sleeves steps offhis front porch slab, walks to his flagpolenear the street, dropsthe U.S. flag to half-mast.Blacksburg, Virginia. Same day.The campus of Virginia Tech. Police identifythe 23-year old student/killer of 30 students andfaculty. Flags drop to half-mast across the country.The same Tuesday . Washington D.C. The govern-ment reports 3,300U.S. service personel killed       ;      &nbs p;      &nb sp;so far in the war in Iraq.Among the most recent: Male, 32, Texas. Male,25, Indiana. Male, 29, Illinois. Male, 20, Ohio.Male, 19, Idaho.Same Tuesday. Geneva, Switzerland. Representativesof Jordon and Syria ask the international communityto help meet the needs of nearly two millionIraqi civilians     &n bsp;    driven f...

BEYOND BLACKSBURG
2008-04-16 09:35:00
by Yolanda Coulazon the anniversaryTwo days before,I scratched the earthbeneath the columbinein my garden.Pulled weedsthat overwintered there,ripped up their roots,thought nothingof their sweat and sap.Columbinesprouts from sand and soil,cuts through cracksin the asphalt path.Columbine—stuck in my mind;a different meaning nowsince ’99.The columbineshe spits her seeds;like weeds they multiply.Her vibrant bloomsless beautifulfor her name.Today—Virginia,violence multiplied.Virginia,her nameshall never be the same.Virgin rage,virgin blood,virgin tears,Virginia.Yolanda Coulaz is a poet, photographer, editor, and founder of Purple Sage Press. She teaches poetry workshops to middle and high school students throughout Long Island and coordinates and hosts the Farmingdale Library Reading Series. Coulaz edited and published the anthology For Loving Precious Beast to help benefit Loving Touch Animal Rescue. Her first book of poetry Spirits and Oxygen is being used in an advanced course i...
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THE BRIDE
2008-04-15 11:20:00
by Ed WebbDawn found her calm, but unslept.Her mother made tea, and stroked her hair,Took no breakfast help nor comfort.Was the single tear proud or sad? Asking was out of reach.She washed carefully, dressed carefully, offered confident prayers forThis house abandoned,her mother's remaining years,the day's deeds.Stepped forth proudly from this house with no menInto a world of strangers,Holding at her breast her secret joy.At the checkpoint, the explosion.Ed Webb studies and teaches Middle East politics. It can be depressing.______________________________ ________________________
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WHAT PROMETHEUS COULDN'T HAVE KNOWN
2008-04-14 11:41:00
by Barbara SchweitzerAnd what if we had never known of fire –if Prometheus had kept it to himself,saved his liver and left us cold – and whydid we expect otherwise? This great geltof his mind gelded him, after all,while we have gone blissfully along,erecting not one Prometheus Mall,no monument, not an airport or song,not a holiday, nor any way, thankinghim for his sacrifice of warm embrace.Poor Meethy. He couldn’t have known of our rankingratitude, our superior racefor arms and other ilks of fire, or our sweetstupid skill of shooting ourselves in the feet.Barbara Schweitzer is a poet and playwright and author of 33 1/3._____________________________________ _________________

DISCOVERY OF ZINNIUM
2008-04-13 09:09:00
by Terry BrixScientists search for years looking for Zinnium,*Thought to be able to reduce anxiety like lithiumYet be as valuable and useful as gold/platinum.At first they looked for it in the nuclear reactors, particle acceleratorsScience never found it. Asked industryBest brains didn't get cold fusion, cheap hydrogen, helium-3Got non-stick aluminum foil, strips for teeth whiteningNot even close. Looked to the wealthy, their troves,Off-shore accounts, gold deposits. Not a traceZurich, Tokyo, Fort Knox, even in Bill's basement.Spirituality was tried, Vatican gave up in a week,Mormons and Moslems hung out for two.First found in Acoma Indian Reservation in New Mexico,A land twice stolen, then used as a tribe dump.Then veins in walls of ghettos in Chicago, the Bronx,Ozarks, Hell's Kitchen, Havre, Watts whereverPoverty rampant, which is about everywhere--Zinnium.Industry tried to buy it, merge it, acquire it, steal,Anti-trust, intellectual property theft it, but couldn't,Eminent Dom...
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MYOPIA
2008-04-12 11:50:00
by Diane Elayne Dees "It wasn't women as a gender that were taken against their will, shackled...and put in slavery." --Clarence Jones, former MLK advisor, What Martin Would Say.The women of Salem, swaying from wood beamson Gallows Hill, cannot speak. The women banishedto Indian reservations, sent because they dared to speak,are silent now. The women shackled and force-fed,gut-broken for the rest of their lives, because they were brazenenough to believe they should vote--can no longer talk to us.The girls sold as prostitutes do not dare say a word.The women who did speak up, and were locked intoassylums, were never heard from again. The womenwhose genitals were mutilated to cure them of lovingtoo many men, or loving even one woman--they, too, are silent. The women fighting in Iraq--who fear rapeas they fear the enemy--try to speak, but our ears are stuffedwith American flags, and we do not hear. Women takenagainst their will and shackled...that, too, is America.Diane Elayne Dees ...

THE GIRL ON THE TANK
2008-04-11 12:02:00
by Genevieve JencsonThe headline reads:Soldiers despairas public ignoresIraq conflictI read it,finish my toast, drive to work,and I forgetuntil I see her,a girl perched on top of that old tankthat guards the memorial garden at the American Legion.Her bare legs dangle on either side of the barreland a breeze lifts stands of her corn silk hair.She looks so beautiful, so innocent, at this momentit’s hard to believe we’re at war.The morning paper says thousands dead,and those are just the ones on our side.Who is counting the all the girlswith dark frightened eyes caught under a shower of bombs,born in the wrong place at the wrong time?Who is counting the angry young men,taught to fight with no other choice? From her spot on the tank,it appears the world cannot touch her;and on this warm spring evening, I feel like the worldcannot touch me.But how close are we to the edge,how long can we remain unscathed,and were we ever really innocent?________________________________ _______________...
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THE WAR
2008-04-11 12:00:00
by Silvia A. Brandon Pérezis not news anymoreor so the local so-callednews providers believethousands of peoplemarching through the streetsof San Francisco or New York,DC or the midlandsis not an occasion for reportage,the arrests, and tasers and pepper sprayfor peaceful protestersthe subject of torturethe subject of imperial and every bloodyaggressionis not fit for consumptionin this land of the bleatingand the comfortableSilvia A. Brandon Pérez is a recent transplant to the West Coast; she is a writer, activist, translator, singer/songwriter, basically in a permanent state of fed-up-ness._____________________________ _________________________

CHINESE WIFE BURNS 400 CELL PHONES
2008-04-10 13:30:00
by Rochelle Ratner (1948-2008)398. She counts them again. The inventory list says 400. Probably gave two to the hussy. She walks along the shelves, picks up a camera phone, takes a picture of her cunt, then finds a phone with more resolution and takes another shot. The deep sex smell’s enticing. She walks along the rows now, match in hand, careful to light one phone at a time so she can hear each sizzle. She remembers that sizzling rice dish she went to so much trouble to make for him. Here’s a small blue phone a customer used for a test call last Monday. She hits the redial but the number’s blocked. Of course it’s blocked. She picks up speed now, trying to get them all to burn together. She has less than twenty phones left when the police arrive. She turns back to look one more time. The fireworks have abated. By next week these phones will be replaced with newer models, she supposes. There will always be new phones, new men, new women.Rochelle Ratner's most recent poetry ...
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JUST ANOTHER YEAR
2008-01-18 11:30:00
by Robert M. ChuteThe voters of Michigancareful not to slipon the icestep over the latestbodies from Baghdadto tell usIT'S THE ECONOMYas we told you before.Let the leadershave their war.It's only a little war.Robert M. Chute has a book from JustWrite Books, Reading Nature, of poetry based on scientific articles, that is available from Amazon or Barnes and Noble.
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BE FOREWARNED
2008-01-17 10:09:00
by Daniel WilcoxBe forewarnedOf Laskshmi, the goddessFrom eastern Bihar;Not the malformed babe,She in the incubatorAccidented into lifeWith eight limbs,Four armed at birth;*Now revered by modernIndians who adoreHer as an incarnationOf their blessed HinduGoddess of that view.Be deliveredTo thinking humansFor modern science,Of birthed compassion,30 of them, who doctoredFor 24 round the SevenRemoved the extra arms,Transplanted a vital organAnd reconstructed her bones—Be thankfulTo the Ultimate ReasonFrom behind the stars;After surgery,She was able to standIn her enlightened mangerFree of 'idol' thoughts;Be clear and wise;You misguided worshipersOf the past's superstition,Praise the scientific miracleOf rational healing,Thank Goodness!*CNN news of an Indian baby born with four arms and four legs.Daniel Wilcox earned his B.A. in Creative Writing from Cal State University, Long Beach. He is a former activist and former wanderer of plenty of where. His poetry has appeared various jour...

RIDING ON A LATE NIGHT AMTRAK
2008-01-16 12:11:00
BACK TO NEW YORK FROM PHILLYby Linda Lerneron a voice flat lining daysacross stock options   numbersreaching toward infinityI’m riding thru a business man’s Americathe flattest country I’ve ever seen--modern technology has createdwhat the prairie must have oncelooked like to westerners a century or two agocleared of horses   sagebrushnot even a saloon or knockdown fightnot one human visibleLinda Lerner is the author of twelve poetry collections, the most recent being Living in Dangerous Times (Pressa Press) and City Woman (March Street Press). Recent poems appear in Tribes, Onthebus, The Paterson Literary Review, The New York Quarterly, Home Planet News, and Van Gogh’s Ear. She has twice been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. In 1995 Andrew Gettler and she began Poets on the Line, the first poetry anthology on the Net for which she received two grants for the Nam Vet Poets issue. Its anthology remains on line although new publication ceased in 2...
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PETRIFIED WATER
2008-01-15 09:15:00
PoeArtry by Charles Frederickson and Saknarin ChinayoteRivers no longer flow into     Oceanic caldera boiling reduced to      &nb sp;   Simmer steam open sea evaporation              ;   Lid pried off plug yankSeeping moisture slowly dried up     Still life seascapes drained mercilessly           Wave swells lay dying on      &nb sp;      &n bsp; Distant shores naked refuse exposedNo longer fit for habitation     S wimming scuba diving breathless drowning     &nb sp;    Moving with vanishing ebb drift               ;  Windswept continents kept off balanceDetritus rained do...
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I HAVE THIS TO SAY ABOUT THAT
2008-01-14 11:20:00
by Sharon BroganDon't those pollsters knowthat married womenlie in the presenceof their husbands?They lie mostly aboutmoney and politics.And sex. That, too.They sneak shopping bagsin the back door.If their husbands noticesomething new,they say, "What?This ole thing?"And when they pullthat poll booth curtainclosed, who's to know?And white women, well,they'll vote for a womanor a black manwithout flinching. And smilewhile they do it. Just likethey smile when asked"Was it good for you, too,honey?" "Why, yes,"they say. "Yes."Sharon Brogan has been blogging at Watermark for four years. Her poetry is also available at Oratory, and small poems.

PUSH BUTTON
2008-01-13 01:41:00
by Marge MerrillI thinkI mightgagon the simple word--Change.This declaration fits nicelyinto sound bytes on the evening news,the mantra true believers plaster on car bumpersor raise like a contrary battle flagand yet--the sound is as hollowas the promisesheld outby the same tired hands.Marge Merrill has produced a spoken word CD, eclectic, available through www.wordfaery.com.
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POSTCARDS FROM IRAQ
2008-01-12 02:01:00
by Sandy HissEleventh Postcard from Iraq The temperature hereis feverishbut I am not ill.My t-shirt sticks tomy culturally shocked skin.Asking "Why did you come here?"I don't have the answers.Too busy fanning myselfwith my own questionswhile beads of sweatattempt to create a necklacearound my aching neck.They could be pearlsbut the sun over Iraqwon't convince me this soon.We have six monthsto become acquainted.Twelfth Postcard from IraqThe loud speaker declares"Attention in the embassy complex.Do not be alarmed. The loudexplosion was in the Red Zone."I turn up the volume on the radio.Thankful it is quiet herein the Green Zone. My earsdeaf to the screamsof widows and childrenliving just a mile away.Their voices a memorylike those of the now deceased.Fifteenth Postcard from IraqI was a guestat the opening of Al-Salam(Peace) soccer field.The fertile grass exhaledbeneath the weightof thick grey clouds. Helospunctured their bellies to letanimosity roam. The greenand white striped shi...

PRIMARY THOUGHTS
2008-01-11 01:18:00
by Anne G. DaviesWho’d have thought Huckabee and ObamaWould be generating so much drama?Evangelical Arkansas hickMatches Harvard lawyer, smart and slick.The rest of the roster’s losing face.(A blessing in Mitt and Rudy’s case.)But what of Hillary Clinton, née Rodham?She lost Iowans when she thought she’d got ‘em,Giving Barack impressive momentumYet in New Hampshire she did prevent ‘imFrom being considered all but anointed,Leaving pollsters stunned and disjointed.And John McCain whom we’d been neglectingSeems to be steadily resurrectingHimself from yawning oblivion.What confusion we’ve all been living in.He snatched first place from the jaws of defeatToppling Mitt and Mike: such winning is sweet.Now they’re all off to pastures greenerNo doubt the rhetoric will only get meanerThis primary system grows exhaustin’Racing from West Coast to north of Boston.I often wish that we could resumeThe politics of the smoke-filled roomWhen fat cats with cigars decided fatesAnd ...
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POEM FOR ALLEN GINSBERG
2008-01-09 07:44:00
by A. D. WinansI saw the best minds of my generationDestroyed by success and greedSmug fashionable poets turned businessmenWho rode the National Endowment For the ArtsPimp train, ignoring Captain Cool and his magic airplaneI saw the best minds of my generation loiteringAt closed down amusement parksDisguised as hobo tramps standing in long linesIn hope of becoming a Southern Pacific Railway detectiveSelf-proclaimed geniuses tossing restlessly in their sleepLike a pair of naked dice on a worn Las Vegas craps tableTheir ragged claws scraping at death’s window ledgeI saw the best minds of my generationLying lifeless in glass coffinsHands folded in gratificationTheir vacant eyes blinking like a pinball machineI saw the best minds of my generationHanging out at Broadway topless barsSearching for paradise, fat and contentSmoking Tijuana slimsStone-faced magicians on their way to the graveyardThree steps behind the screaming monkey grinderWith the one-eyed monkey masturbating on his back...
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PRIMARY DAY
2008-01-08 10:50:00
by Martha DeedIn the belly of the whalethere are no flashlightsand on a starry nightno appendectomiesyour have-a-happy-day surmiseis worth less than a slippery slopeof cream cheese and grape jelly on ryewhich is why I love to go fishing in Januarycasting bread upon frozen watersand waiting for whales on Seneca Lakeon Primary DayMartha Deed's chapbook, 65 x 65, was recently published by Peter Ganick's small chapbook project (December 2006). Her poems have recently appeared in Shampoo, unlikelystories, 3by3by3, 21 Stars, and Iowa Review Web (with Millie Niss). Her website is www.sporkworld.org/Deed.

WOMAN LEFT IN IN CT SCANNER FOR HOURS AFTER CLINIC CLOSES
2008-01-07 10:00:00
by Rochelle RatnerTwenty-five minutes, they told her as they dimmed the lights. Relax, they told her. One technician said he knows how painful bone cancer is, his sister died from it. But try to relax. Maybe it hasn't spread. Don't move, they told her, weighing her down with a heavy blanket, strapping her arms in, locking the machine. Or maybe just closing it. She loses track of time in the dark. There doesn't seem to be anyone out there. Twenty-five minutes, they said. Bone cancer. Pain. Metastatic. And those were the last words she remembers hearing. It seems like hours ago now. She's starting to fear the dark. Nobody told her she could go home. Ever.Rochelle Ratner's latest poetry books include Leads (Otoliths Press, 2007), Balancing Acts (Marsh Hawk Press, 2006), Beggars at the Wall (Ikon, 2006) and House and Home (Marsh Hawk Press, 2003). She is the author of fifteen previous poetry collections and two novels (Bobby’s Girl and The Lion’s Share) both published by Cof...
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THE LONELY
2008-01-06 10:00:00
by Matt TurnerSoap-operatic sighs rise from botox lips of enslavingmechanical creations of the monetarily hued maw of massproduction and solitary escapement.She sits on her caffe modesto leather lined love seat withoutanybody to love."If you could have a day at the beach, what would it be?"Softened saxophonal tunes sweetly hatch to her sorrowed tears,washing the midnight plum eyeliner from her hazel green eyes (ahorrible match).She remembers,"Still half a pizza in the fridge.""Would I care about me if Iwere somebody else?"The generic before and after pictures are always viewed with astrange sense of disgust and envy. Steve Perry continues the flow."Would I care..."Expansion forbade in light of her confining lunar gaze,mass produced and intent on illusionary and solitary expansionin the comfortable confines of the shallow self."Can gourmet and store-boughtbe one in the same?"She resolves the answer must be no, but begrudges notthe gourmet bag of store-bought coffee on top of the micr...
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PLATE
2008-01-05 02:41:00
by Dale Goodsonthe kitchen was quietat peacethen a plate lost its placefell against a bowl in the dish rackthe sudden bangwas deafeningfrightened meI broke out in a cold sweatgravitycan’t do nuthin’ about itbut still-I took a deep breathrighted the plateleaned on the counterTHEN THIS NOISE:one hundred million spent in Iowaone hundred millionby men and women running for officemade me want to jump off a towerstop, I thoughtstopbut they can’twon’tin Iowaor anywhere elsethe plate fell againhad toit’s a universal lawmore harsh racketbut at five dollars pera feeble challengeDale Goodson is a writer from Seattle currently living in New York City and working as a homeless outreach worker in Times Square. He recently created his own website: dalegoodson.com.

LOOKING FOR AMERICA
2008-01-03 10:00:00
by Jon WesickWe didn’t find it in Baltimore or Huntsvillenot in Tucson, Seattle, Philly, or Washington DC.Kangaroo courts, rigged elections, cops beatingsuspects in back rooms, the poor barred from hospitals,families with both parents working going under.That ain’t America !So with the help of a 58’ trawler yacht, the Able Marie,six of us went looking. We boarded in Valparaiso Chile,sailed through Panama up to Halifax and shadowedcontainer ships across the North Atlantic.Where did America go? Antwerp? Rotterdam? Hamburg?Different players – same crooked game.Marseilles, Piraeus, Jeddah, Dubai, Mumbai,Singapore, Hong Kong, Kobe – not there either.Still seeking our lost country we steertoward the Southern Cross. For now America existsonly on this teak deck, washed with sprayand tossed by 40’ waves.Jon Wesick has a Ph.D. in physics, has practiced Buddhism for over twenty years, and has published over a hundred poems in small press journals such as American Tanka, Anthology Ma...

NEW YEAR'S WISHES FOR MY FATHER
2008-01-02 11:33:00
by Thomas D. ReynoldsMay the wind always rustleThe orange leaf of your heart.May the skies never darkenThe early morning of your smile.No one can read your heartAnd may the language be always beautiful,Maddeningly melodic on the tongueyet mysterious and exotically foreign.May you walk gracefullyIn the shadows of a diminishing sun.May your soul be lightYet as firm as the starsWhen even the slightest breathMight send you drifting.Thomas D. Reynolds received an MFA in creative writing from Wichita State University, currently teaches at Johnson County Community College in Overland Park, Kansas, and has published poems in various print and online journals, including New Delta Review, Alabama Literary Review, Aethlon-The Journal of Sport Literature, Flint Hills Review, The MacGuffin, The Cape Rock, The Pedestal Magazine, Eclectica, Strange Horizons, Combat, 3rd Muse Poetry Journal, and Ash Canyon Review.
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