Nebraska-based poet, writer, educator
"...I arrived at Timothy
a skipped prom of nickel Saturn
charms, newly alien with truth harvested
from a magazine of eyeshadow
and boys: Timothy, we can bury it.
The moon. Use your raised thumb
and a single open eye."
From "At Timothy"
(13th Floor Magazine, Spring 2019)
"...Name the house number where all of childhood unfurled. Name the grocery aisle where you noted the earth under my nails. We wondered what we couldn't reach. We asked why wings why no wings why the city won't divide into wings or no wings..."
From Swans (Dancing Girl Press, 2016)