After years and states and books and etc I have made the jump to a new website, which I have named after myself because I’ve heard that’s the rage.

This blog will continue at and you can keep up with all things The Bone and the Body at Once I figure out how redirects work, I will set one up and you’ll go right over to the new blog, so give this one a hug while you can. All of the posts here have been migrated over there, so you’ll still be able to read everything all the time, but you know. If you’re sentimental like me, even this web space is a place, and you know how I feel about places I have called home.

Love you, WordPress.

The thing I have been sitting on:
The Bone and the Body will be a flesh/blood/embodied object in the world, published by BatCat Press this spring. It will be handmade and lovely. Can I say it will have a home? A home: a full-length book, in which: prose and verse and oysters and letters and owners and renters and no and chicken feet and the distant woods and sitting right directly down in the sand as it shifts and does not answer.

I have spent some time this morning updating broken links and I realized that I never posted about some of my recent work, out there in the world, living quietly on the Internet. So, for you:

“Nomadic” in TYPO

One theory is about riding a bike
but we cannot apply this to language
Believing in script as a replacement for the body

“Sight by Sound by Shade” in Sink Review

Grafted onto another body     you     looking at you

And I in the future of the imagination look too

[not pictured]

 Song of the Week: “Cello Concerto in E Minor Op. 85 – Adagio – Moderato” by Edward Elgar

At the center of the stage the body is shaking.


B tells me that blogging is “over,” but I am only just now hearing about the phrase “on fleek,” so I think I’ll stay behind the times for a bit longer. Here’s to saying things out loud.

Sometimes “I” is supposed to hold what is not there until it is. Then what is comes apart the closer you are to it.

This makes the first person a symbol for something.

The pronoun barely holding the person together.

– Claudia Rankine, Citizen