The more people like you, promote you, vote for you, or buy what you sell…the more people have demands and expectations of you. You grow, expand, and change as much as the people allow. You belong to the people, that’s… Read More ›
DPchallenge
The tip of your tongue
Art is just around the corner, just outside the edge of this song that’s on, now. Art is your nature, a prick of light on the skin of the dark that leads you somewhere warmer. Follow that.
Cold
I haven’t written cold in a while: meaning, I sit down, type, hit publish and move on. It’s similar to standing behind a microphone not knowing what you’re going to say, not being able to see who’s looking at you…. Read More ›
Going Back to Hell (End)
Dora the server wears a black vest, bow-tie, thick eye-liner, doesn’t focus right with the one eye: she looks behind me, somewhere. She says how did you know I’m Greek, and I say because your name tag says THEODORA. I… Read More ›
Going Back to Hell (4)
Sunday morning in Las Vegas, day four of seven. The only people out this early are the runners and the homeless, waking up on the sidewalk as the sun cuts through the gaps between the hotels. Friday night: a midget… Read More ›
Going Back to Hell (3)
Poets have no business in Las Vegas unless they’re here to write horror stories, or die a drunken, messy death. I don’t gamble, don’t like musicals, don’t like paying a lot for dinner, and I’m married. So I’m holing up… Read More ›
Killing Time, Making Time, Wasting Time
I don’t know what it’s “about.” That’s what people want to know when you say you’ve written something, that’s the first question. Is it published, what’s it about? I don’t make time for a pipeline, for blog posts. I spin… Read More ›
Going Back to Hell (1)
The sales guy wears his sunglasses on the back of his head when he’s not wearing them on his face. He’s got product in his hair, tanned year-round, upper 40s, looks better than me. Doesn’t work as hard. He rides… Read More ›
Drug Friend
Peel held his arm out to me like a piece of meat, like it wasn’t his, like it was something he found. He looked to me for a reaction at what I saw: the spots along his veins, scarred over,… Read More ›
Quality, Popularity
These two don’t always go together. Businesses that grow from a quality product struggle to maintain it once they get big; they pay consultants to help them remember what it was like to be small. Morrissey said, “Fame, fame, fatal… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 