My URL is a lie. So is my email address. I no longer live in Minneapolis. Let that revelation soak in for a minute. Then forgive me, if you’re able.
Life did what life does sometimes and I wound up resettling over in St. Paul, across the river from where I was living when I first planted my flag in digital terra firma.
Life in the Como neighborhood of Minnesota’s capital city has been pretty okay so far.
Not long after I moved, I learned that a St. Paul small press, Red Bird Chapbooks, would be publishing my poetry collection Coyotes I Couldn’t See sometime in 2016. (I’ll post more on that when the book’s available for purchase.) In the meantime, I recently completed work on another poetry manuscript — a 100-page sequence of semi-surreal, 12-line lyrics honoring the people and places of my small town Hoosier childhood.
Brazil, Indiana (a folk poem) is circulating among publishers as I type this. Excerpts have appeared in print and online publications in the U.S., Ireland and Scotland. The Moth, a favorite Irish mag of mine, published six excerpts in a recent issue, even though they didn’t include my name on their cover:
If you happen to be a publisher interested in quirky poems about quirky folks, maybe you should get in touch with me. I know a guy with a book.
