I always sort of hate it when people ping me and ask that I vote for them in contests they have entered. I usually do, but inside I’m thinking hey, what if I don’t think you’re the best? I love and support my friends, of course, but when it’s time for me to enter something, I’m self-conscious about saying “go vote for me.”
So, I’m entered in the annual Doors Open Denver Photo Contest. Most of it is juried, but there is also a people’s choice vote, and I’d like to invite you to vote for me – if you think I’m worthy. Continue reading
If you are going to the North Country Fair, you will find your way blocked by a stone in the desert that towers far above the land. Continue reading
I almost titled this “Self-Portrait.”
Three or four years ago I wrapped my fourth book of poetry and hung up my quill, as it were. I wrote about it at the time, but no matter how self-aware or introspective or pensive or reflective you are, you simply will not fully understand this kind of momentous decision until you’ve had a chance to get away from it and develop some distance and perspective.
Lately I believe I have come to a deeper realization about my relationship with poetry than I ever had, ever could have had, before. When all is said and done, I believe poetry was killing me. Or rather, poetry was the weapon with which I was killing myself.
Here’s how it goes. Continue reading
Some San Francisco street reality for your happy brunchy Sunday…
The fellow was clearly homeless, or pretty close to it. But it was a relief to see that at least in this one passing moment he had some food. It looked like a tamale of some kind. And he was really enjoying it. Devouring it, to the exclusion of his consideration of everything else around him as he walked the curb and gutter down Valencia Street.