The Habit of Hope

The Habit of Hope I am a creature of bad habits. When my last relationship ended I fell back into them joyfully, like an elephant falls into cool mud. Dishes piled in the sink, candy wrappers littered my desk, mounds of unopened business envelopes grew into mountains....

For Ken, Who Saved My Life

For Ken, Who Saved My Life In the fall of 1977 I moved to New York City, having dropped out of college to become a hippie poet along with my buddies Tony and Bill. We were going to start a new magazine of American surrealism, which we already called New Honolulu...
Retrocausality

Retrocausality

In conclusion, I might say that this funky and often tedious memoir work I’ve been busy with for who knows how long now— dredging through boxes of old journals mildewed and nearly illegible, photographs cracked and worn, blurred words and broken trinkets and solitary...