Everything

My first and last love are songs. I was all over the place. Late at night, my dad would listen either to country music or the BBC (guess he was all over the place, too). He and my mom would go to sleep with the radio on. I remember lying in bed and hearing the [...]

There is a considerable amount of contention over the true source of the word “chapbook.” Scholars of Anglo-Saxon history and language contend that the prefix “chap-” is derived from the ancient word “ceap,” while others maintain it is merely a corruption of “cheap;” however, most attribute the word’s popularity to the chapman—European peddler, reporter, and [...]

This entry is part of a series, mUutations» Warning: mUutations are a project from my other site, . They are arbitrary interpretive readings that change the poems into something they’re not. Proceed at your own risk. Here’s George Hitchcock’s “Dawn,” from his collection, A Ship of Bells: Clouds rise from their nests with flapping wings, [...]

Poetry and images are no strangers. From ancient illuminated texts, to William Blake, to Lewis Carroll (to name a mere few) illustration is a powerful ally beside poetry. I’m excited by the writer who feels compelled to expand his rapport with the poem by creating art. I think it’s the excitement of language that can [...]

Around ten years ago, at a small dinner party thrown by my friend and mentor, Edie Eustace, I had the pleasure of meeting Sweet Sue Terry, a composer and Jazz saxophonist, who does a rather remarkable thing with poems: she sets them word for word, actually, often syllable for syllable to note values. The word [...]

Anger Managment A man wanted to control his anger, so frightful even grizzly bears feared him. A shaman told him to insult and beat a log with a stick until he was exhausted. When the weary man returned and asked, “What lesson have I learned?” the shaman replied, ______________“Be like the log.” KOHT’AENE TS’AKUT’EH (Literally [...]

Piercings Pierced flesh grows back like graffiti painted over the morning after wounds we carry from the dark show scars we cannot hide in the mirror my piercings are invisible to the naked eye but mark me as a troubled heart nailed to your memory slowly mending _________________________________________ Rob Mustard‘s first ebook of poems, Blue [...]