Poem & Interview at Fairy Tale Review!

A poem and a short interview with me have just been published online as part of Fairy Tale Review‘s Pins & Needles Q&A series. Poetry Editor Jon Riccio asked some really fun questions about my two poems published in FTR‘s Ochre Issue, and in the space of a few hundred words I managed to cram in Robyn Hitchcock, Mary Ruefle, Craig Raine, Anthony Burgess, Dostoyevsky, James Taylor, Pringles, T.S. Eliot, Ross Gay, P.G. Wodehouse, and Alpha Centauri. Plus the full text of one of the poems, “We’re Actually Fabulous” is included at the end of the interview. Thanks again Jon!

Read HERE.

“Our Beautiful Life When It’s Filled with Shrieks” on KUSP’s The Poetry Show

Hi friends. My poem “Our Beautiful Life When It’s Filled with Shrieks” — a finalist for the 2015 Rattle Poetry Prize — was recently featured on KUSP’s The Poetry Show in Santa Cruz, CA. Host Dennis Morton reads a selection of work from Rattle Issue 50, including a delightful rendition of my poem around minute 24. The last half of the show features samplings from a CD of contemporary Scottish poetry. You can stream or download the episode HERE.

My Poem Among Story Magazine’s Most Powerful Stories of 2015

I’m honored to find that my poem “Our Beautiful Life When It’s Filled with Shrieks” – a finalist for the 2015 Rattle Poetry Prize and recently published in Issue 50 – was included in this list of the Most Powerful Stories of 2015 by the editors of Story Magazine. It’s so cool to see my poem among this eclectic gathering of 2015’s essays, novels, news stories, film, music and more, rubbing metaphorical shoulders (after the top 10) with Marc Maron’s WTF interview with President Obama and the final season of Mad Men. Thanks Story Magazine!

A Poem by Jim Harrison from Letters to Yesenin (1973)

Number 19



Naturally we would prefer seven epiphanies a day and an earth
not so apparently devoid of angels. We become very tired with
pretending that we like to earn a living, with the ordinary objects and
events of our lives. What a beautiful toothbrush. How wonderful
to work overtime. What a nice cold we have to go with the cold
crabbed spring. How fun to have no money at all. This thin soup
tastes great. I’m learning something every morning from cheap wine
hangovers. These rejection slips are making me a bigger person.
The mailbox is always so empty let’s paint it pink. It’s good for
my soul that she prefers to screw another. Our cat’s right eyeball
became ulcerated and had to be pulled but she’s the same old cat.
I can’t pay my taxes and will be sent to prison but it will probably
be a good experience. That rattlesnake striking at dog and daughter
was interesting. How it writhed beautifully with its head cut
off and dog and daughter were tugging at it. How purging to lose
our last twenty dollars in a crap game. Seven come eleven indeed.
But what grand songs you made out of an awful life though you had
no faith that less was more, that there was some golden splendor
in humiliation. After all those poems you were declared a coward
and a parasite. Mayakovsky hissed in public over your corpse and
work only to take his own life a little while later. Meanwhile
back in America Crane had his Guggenheim year and technically jumped
ship. Had he been seven hundred feet tall he would have been OK.
I suspect you would have been the kind of friends you both needed
so badly. So many husbands have little time for their homosexual
friends. But we should never imagine we love this daily pile of shit.
The horses in the yard bite and chase each other. I’ll make a carol
of my dream: carried in a litter by lovely women, a 20 lb. bag of cocaine,
angels shedding tunics in my path, all dead friends come to life again.