I have far too many books. Far #2ManyBooks Too many to read in one month, or one day, one afternoon a plenty, one year or decade. I read a few at a time: one here and one there; how many more, … Continue reading #2ManyBooks. A Poem.
Cormac McCarthy is a damn fine writer. He’s also a very disturbing one. Child of God is one of his older books (1973), and tells the story of Lester Ballard, a lonely and erstwhile Tennessee hick who loses his home … Continue reading Child of God. A book review.
Tim Winton’s Breath is the kind of book that challenges your thinking about what it means to be a writer. Winton’s prose flows like poetry, with immaculate meter and dialectal mastery. Breath makes me ashamed to say I’m a writer, … Continue reading Breath. A book review.
I’m a bad reader. Not a bad reader, as in slow or illiterate, but bad as in I read 10-12 books at a time and as a result often find myself returning to a book, months after I started it, … Continue reading Bad Reader, Bad!
I love books. Here’s a poem I wrote that expresses just that.
Pages
Paper gods
In times of need
Beckoning me back
To places beyond imagining Continue reading Pages. A poem.
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