Hobgoblin

Writers are haunted by hobgoblins. The page is not a place for ego, nor for illusions of grandeur; each page is the start of a new day and what was magical the day before more often than not is utter muck the next. The divine does not perch upon the …

Nonsense

Ezra Pound once said, or wrote, that nonsense is the closet thing we have to myth. I sometimes wonder if that’s true, that what we mistake for chaos has order and structure, the structure of narrative. If we could only straighten it all out we would understand the cosmos. This …

Revising at Large

I’ve have a love/hate relationship with coffeehouses, especially as places to write. Never truly bought into the idea that a place with caffeine drinking traffic, kitchen-noise, cell-phone-talkers, company men setting up ersatz offices, and a shuffling soundtrack not of your choosing were all that and a bag of coffee beans. …

Furrows of Summer

One of the best jobs I held in the seasons of my high school and university summers was working the furrows of a large potato farm on the western outskirts of town. I rode my ten speed to a quonset every morning dressed to work outdoors in the heat for …