Living in times I thought I would have only read in dystopic novels, times I saw coming and perhaps, like others, rubbed my eyes and convinced myself it was a dark hallucination–
Instead of starting the new book about writing I planned in the fall of 2016, I went silent. Or near-silent. There were thought-out rants and even videos posted on FB, that were quickly published elsewhere. I started stories. I kept up with my journal of nearly half century. After the Black Dove
book tour, I continued to promote it in this country and elsewhere as invites came in or was honored with a few awards for my efforts in the book. But I had no new book planned anymore. What would be the point in a world where corporate fascism was clearly on the rise? These were my thoughts.
Sometimes, I worked on poems. A few have been published. Today it is a nearly finished collection of more than forty, mostly unpublished works. There is news tk. Meanwhile, you may find a few in issues of FWJ and elsewhere.
The poet, alive and well, and currently residing in NYC.