a synonym for living



How beautiful you must be
to have been able to lead me
this far with only
the sound of your going away
heard once at a time and then
remembered in silence
when the time was gone
you whom I have never seen
o forever invisible one
whom I have never mistaken
for another voice
nor hesitated to follow
beyond precept and prudence
over seas and deserts
you incomparable one
for whom the waters fall
and the winds search
and the words were made

– W.S. Merwin


i rarely read my work, but this week is different!

NYC *TOMORROW* 7-9pm :  berl’s brooklyn poetry shop, with good folks.

PITTSBURGH, wed 24 may, white whale bookstore. grateful for the opportunity to read in my hometown, hopping in with toby altman’s book tour for a night!

& yes, I’ll have some copies of MEET ME HERE AT DAWN in tow. do come out & say hello. hope to see you. today is my birthday, so you can wish me a happy belated too. 34. i survived myself so far! amazing!


bright division : debut

two poems from BRIGHT DIVISION at The Rumpus

bright division is the pen name that the brilliant corey zeller and i write beneath and with. these are the first poems we’ve submitted–quickly taken. more to come.


my poem in the latest four way review 

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 This poem about my younger brother was featured recently at Poetry Daily. It is difficult to write about family, yet seems necessary, maybe part of being a healthy writer, at least for me. My brother hasn’t read this poem, and I don’t know what he would think of it. There are a few poems for him in my book:  “At The Round House” and “Summer Job, June.” I don’t think he’s read any of them. My brother is wildly creative, wildly talented. He writes rock operas, plays in punk marching bands, aces any instrument he picks up. He’s smarter than me, might have a photographic memory. And he’s funny too, loves animals. He’s building something in his yard, making some sort of land art inspired by his trip out here last year, when we went to see the Watts Towers. And I think my brother is rattled by the earth, and memory, and the unknown. Rattled by chemistry and perceived failure and imaginary or real expectation. I recognize that rattle in him — it’s one of the things that makes us kin. I had said for years that we were alike, something he refused to believe, found repellant actually, until not so long ago. And it was a huge relief when he saw something in us as similar, as sibling. Sometimes I love him more than I know what to do with. The poems are fraught and worried and written with the knowledge of how knit together we are. I’m grateful to have a brother who sees and feels and knows so much. It’s a question of how to hold all that in the world, and still be able to function. We have that in common too — the sometimes endless-seeming effort at just being able to be. So, I don’t know if he’d like these poems. The work that he creates is fictional, allegorical. But I hope that when he reads these someday he’ll see only the love there. If you are reading this, dear Bean, I believe in you. Never doubt that, if you can.


mmhad.ode.featurebookhearth & hammer chose my book meet me here at dawn (yesyes books) as the first to be included in their limited-edition author-inspired ode boxes. for national poetry month, they’ve created ode to sylvia  in honor of sylvia plath. the box is full of beautiful things made by independent female artisans. an excerpt from an article in bustle on this special offering:

Screen shot 2017-04-05 at 8.05.02 PMonly 30 boxes will be made!

in melissa’s contemporary class at the sweat spot – one of my top 5 beloved places in LA – we keep dancing to lana del rey’s new single, & now i can’t get it out of my head: 

Maps [ by Yesenia Montilla ]


read Yesenia Montilla’s book THE PINK BOX  (Willow Books)

don’t hold back

new perfume genius album out on may 5

who knew?

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some humbling reviews of my book.

you can find a copy of Meet Me Here At Dawn here.

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