Poet Brag

She writes like a cross between Antonio Machado and Roger Zelazny.

She carries a wood-axe and bites heads off of nails.

She catches summer lightning in a binder clip.

She wears sandalwood and cinnamon bark.

She knows revelation to its root in the flesh.

She knows a good poem ought to make a reader sweat.


If she were music, she’d be Buddy Guy on guitar and Charlie Musselwhite on harp.

If she were food, she’d be chocolate and curry.

She brought a flamethrower to a gunfight.

She outdrank Molotov and his cocktail.

She knows revelation to its root in the flesh.

She knows a good poem ought to leave you wringing wet.


--with thanks to Bo Diddly and Koko Taylor

Books Available
Country Well-Known as an Old Nightmare's Stable
High-Voltage Lines
Knocking from Inside