Noedits
Now and then I explore ideas through short writing experiments. One day it might look like a poem, another day an essay or a yawp at the empty sky. Whatever they are, these pieces are allowed to exist as they are born, without revision, so I call them “noedits.” They offer me a break from the rigor of writing novels. What they offer you, I have no idea, but you are welcome to kick them around like cans in the road.
noedit / 7.12.26 / mother death
A woman in Goodland, Kansas once told me she killed a man with her bare hands. What she taught me about storytelling, and about writing The Whirlpool of Lebanon.
noedit / 6.30.26 / zen country song
A poem.
noedit / 6.21.26 / banville and the seed of failure
Reading John Banville on Father’s Day morning, with thoughts on cleverness, ego, and Shunryu Suzuki’s seed of failure.
noedit / 5.14.24 / the first meeting of the odd second saturday society (OSSS)
Minutes from the first meeting of a small literary society convened in a pub basement. Attendees include a probable werewolf and one man whose name appears to be his name, twice.
noedit / 4.25.24 / artist statement number eight
A prose poem in the form of an artist statement. What I want. What I write. What happens to the sentences when you take the verbs away.
noedit / 5.3.24 / study in light
A visual poem about light, kindness, ghosts, and the aggressive tidiness of institutions.
noedit / 7.29.23 / weeds
A ramble on brambles, weapons-grade vinegar, and the long war for a small patch of dirt in front of the house.
noedit / 1.28.24 / tongue of time
A stream-of-consciousness meditation on youth, madness, walking on water, and what our younger selves would make of us now.
noedit / 1.22.24 / never finish
On failing to finish The Whirlpool of Lebanon after three complete drafts, Cormac McCarthy’s Olivetti typewriter, and the fine art of forgetting your commas.