writing – Page 3

I’m Longing to Linger ‘Til Dawn, Dear (Word Raccoon Got the Rizz!)

Now Playing: “Dream a Little Dream of Me”(Yes, I sang it last night. All heart, zero shame.) Reporting live from the bunker where the Busted Poetry Vending Machine sits flickering, refusing to dispense anything but metaphorical lint and fragments of verse. Word Raccoon’s tried shaking it, threatening it with a ballpoint pen, and bribing itContinue reading “I’m Longing to Linger ‘Til Dawn, Dear (Word Raccoon Got the Rizz!)”

From the Forgotten Drawer: Looking for Virginia

Originally published in Woolfzine (2017) Now Playing: Virginia Woolf by Robyn Hitchcock (I heard him do it live. Snaps.) I wrote Looking for Virginia back in 2007 for a creative writing class. For a long time, I wasn’t sure what I’d made, only that it felt sharp and strange and necessary. No one saw itContinue reading “From the Forgotten Drawer: Looking for Virginia”

Waiting on Coffee: A Comic, Could be a Whole Series

Soundtrack: Now Playing: “Art School Girl” – Stone Temple Pilots There’s something both oddly sacred and super casual about the phrase “Let’s grab coffee soon and talk about your work.” It floats around workshops, readings, literary events, DMs—spoken with the breezy warmth of “let’s catch up sometime” and the casual optimism of people who mightContinue reading “Waiting on Coffee: A Comic, Could be a Whole Series”

Everything Is Tuberculosis (And Other Things I Fear, Too, But Call Me, John)

A totally nonscientific, fear-based trip through tuberculosis, as taken by one anxious, poem-hoarding Word Raccoon. NOT LISTENING TO:This playlist John Green posted once: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/37i9dQZF1E4EHcWZKczEPM?si=KrVm99kNQwCXfakPA6EFFw ALSO NOT LISTENING TO: The Mountain Goats – Sunset Tree Now Playing: Toys in the Attic, Aerosmith. (For now. Nope, can’t land on anything today. Oh well…) I tried setting theContinue reading “Everything Is Tuberculosis (And Other Things I Fear, Too, But Call Me, John)”

CLEAR BAG POLICY IN EFFECT

Here. Try this. It’ll hurt a little, but god, it’ll taste like something you almost remember. Busking from the Busted Poetry Machine Bunker —”Over It” Edition: Cold, Whatever Now Playing:“Let’s Tattoo the Moon” – from the unreleased Post-Apocalyptic Seance Mixtape by DJ Word Raccoon Even if he lands, we’ll just bleed together/ maybe we canContinue reading “CLEAR BAG POLICY IN EFFECT”

My Cathedral’s Ready—Want to See the Stained Glass?

So yeah, I had a blog post all ready yesterday (okay, mostly ready). Fine. I was working on it. And then I checked my inbox.NBD, just a chapbook competition closing—LAST NIGHT. I know how premature this might sound, entering a contest mid-fever dream and new to poetry, but this cold has had me underground withContinue reading “My Cathedral’s Ready—Want to See the Stained Glass?”

It doesn’t have to be pretty, Precious, if it sings

I know it’s April, not October, Herbert, but if I want to give jagged lipstick vibes on my own damn blog, I will! (What — it’s May? Damn.) The last years we lived in the Nashville area, we lived in Willamson County. There’s this cool town there called Leiper’s Fork. We DID NOT have Leiper’sContinue reading “It doesn’t have to be pretty, Precious, if it sings”

Authorial Consent (Well, Someone Hit Send)

Caption: (I didn’t say how many centuries ago I built it.) I think I’m almost over this inconvenient little cold that hijacked my week. I always get the crankiest right before I get better, and right now? I’m irritable. So here I am—me and Billy Joel again—trying to outwrite it. Unexpected upside of this quarantine-of-one?Continue reading “Authorial Consent (Well, Someone Hit Send)”

Control: The Language

I’ve had Billy Joel’s “A Matter of Trust” on repeat this morning—not quietly, I might add. The music kept the blaze alive while I finished the poem that jolted me awake—which, naturally, sparked another poem.How do you poets hold hot coals to your chests? Holy guava dip!I’ve no idea what to do with one exceptContinue reading “Control: The Language”

Busted Poetry Vending Machine: First Drop, No Refunds

Outdoor writing season has officially begun!To celebrate, I wore a fun hat.When did I stop wearing hats regularly? I don’t know—but I’m bringing them back with a vengeance. I’m doing other things I’ve been meaning to do as well. Like write poetry. In fact, I’m finally starting an occasional series called Busted Poetry Vending Machine, rightContinue reading “Busted Poetry Vending Machine: First Drop, No Refunds”