A bit about myself…

in doors, in side, in mind, in quiet, in words, in flights of birds, in woods and mountains and

on mountains, on slopes, on stools tipped back, on sidewalks, on line but rather off, on edge of unexpected and

by friends, by kids, by you, by fire, by burnt toast, by scratching pencil, by lover and

at once, at then, at now, at work, at play, at excuse for play and not work, at home and

with no one, with myself, with thoughts, with tinnitus, with the room, with nothing-longing and  

for nothing more, for this, for that, for words, for their power to make and take and transport.

This is fiction. This is non-fiction. This is me.