Tag Archives: Creative Writing

Magnetic Haiku

For Christmas I got a magnetic poetry set. As my refrigerator is already covered with magnetic monsters, a giant mustache, and another set of magnetic poetry. I decided these guys should go on the white board in my office. It’s a fun game to play in the morning when I’m still shaking the sleep out of my brain. Plus, it’s fun to share. I plan on doing a whole series of these. Hope you enjoy.

Daily Haiku

I laugh with my fiends
you investigate my breath
I am still on weed.

Poem: “Copy of a Copy”

Today I finally got my contributor’s copies from Alligator Juniper, which includes my poem “A Copy of a Copy.”

The poem was part of my thesis project in 2010, titled The Tower, a novel-in-verse set in a post-apocalyptic zombie dreamscape and rife with pop culture references and daddy issues. Poets gotta have those daddy issues.

The 2011 issue of Alligator Juniper looks great, too. Nice layout, glossy paper, and what looks to be a lot of other good work in it. I can’t wait to sink my teeth into it to see what it has to offer. And of course, I can’t hold it against them for being a year late getting the books to me. As the former Managing Editor at the Bellingham Review, I understand that sometimes these things just happen at a student journal. Like anyone else, I just like seeing my name in print!

Anyway, here’s the poem:

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Short Story: The Tale of Sir Olive Hans

My sister called me up a couple weeks ago and said she had this idea for a character she wanted to draw and she wanted me to write a story to go along with it. I have to admit that I don’t even remember the last time I’d written a short story, but the name she gave the character—Sir Olive Hans—was just too good for me to pass up. So, I set out to write about 1,000 or so words of nonsense, bolstered by this most excellent illustration.

What would you like to see Sir Olive do next? Let me know in the comments.

Sir Olive Hans: The most dapper of olive-fingered gentlemen

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I Miss You

Hello. I have been away for far too long. Had to go off and learn how to be a big, professional boy.

Gonna start posting to this site again soon. Redesigning some things in it now.

Good stuff is happening though. Got a chapbook out with the amazing Joshua Young called “The Diegesis.” You can check it out at Gold Wake Press here.

But what’s really cool, is that Gold Wake is putting out the full collection next April. I’ve put out a lot of books in the past year under different names, but this one will have my name on it, dammit.

In the meantime, here’s a disco song about hot man-on-narwhal action. You’re welcome.


It’s been a while, but Yellow and I are back.

If it begins, it begins with a letter. And if it begins with a letter, the letter should look like an “A” but sound like a “Q” with a speech impediment. So here, where it begins, I ask you: When these thoughts cause pause for plosive stops, how is it you ignore the tremors but ride out the aftershocks? Are we only safe in the aftermath, a line of taillights waiting for guidance from someone in a reflective coat? But then question comes, is it the fabric reflecting, or the person? Representation or consideration? The questions, like the letters, are out of order and cannot be trusted. So for now I’ll flip the “B” on its side and wear it like coke bottle glasses and swim these troubled cees just a bit longer. The cipher lies in the “A,” because we must always start from the beginning.

National Poetry Month, 25 – Live: Collecting Thoughts Through the Day

If you catch this blog early in the afternoon today, you’ll get to see this post evolve. I want to see what liveblogging a poem throughout the day is like. I’m just going to write little snippets as they occur to me.


I’ve always thought of a Tea Party
as a place where children go
to make things up
and learn how to gossip.


The greatest thing
— by far —
that imperialism
ever gave the planet
was Freddie Mercury.


Am I crazy to think
there’s money to be made
selling spammers access
to your accounts
in half-hour increments?


A woman wanted for stealing
a styrofoam banana
from a Wisconsin gas station
while wearing a gorilla suit
will not be charged.


While washing the dishes
the coffee mug asked me
“What if the Hokey Pokey
really is what it’s all about?”

I’m okay with that.


I had to stop myself
from making faces
at what this chick was
doing to her sandwich.


an object
can be

the thought
of which
whelms me.

National Poetry Month, Day 24 – Tanka

no one feels too bad
when they scream at the asshole
driving ten under
on a Sunday afternoon
if they’re running late for work.