He is Martin Amis (and We’re Not)
Martin Amis was not merely the supreme literary stylist of his generation, his non-fiction was, arguably (unbelievably) possibly even better than his fiction. An absolute master, and incomparable in every…
Martin Amis was not merely the supreme literary stylist of his generation, his non-fiction was, arguably (unbelievably) possibly even better than his fiction. An absolute master, and incomparable in every…
I continue to appreciate the team at Jerry Jazz Musician for celebrating America's unique art form, and showcasing not only the sounds, but the words around the sounds. For my…
“With age comes wisdom, but sometimes age comes alone.” That, from the ever-quotable Oscar Wilde. Does age impart wisdom? Maybe. It definitely provides opinions. Some of them, perhaps, are worthwhile.…
Fall '83 and, as if weekly church services weren't insufferable enough, the Sacrament of Confirmation required mandatory tutelage, also once a week, on Sundays, which meant our soccer games (and…
My second rodeo with the folks at The Daily Drunk, and what more perfect place to publish a poem about John Belushi? (Regular reminder to read & support your independent…
Huge love & thanks to the awesome team at Washington Writers' Publishing House for featuring my poem "DuBose Heyward's Blues," which was drafted with the working title "Rhapsodies in Blue"…
Another wonderful Facebook memory prompts me to recall how incredibly productive things were, this time seven years ago, albeit not in the ways I'd intended. To recap, I headed up…
This pic popped up in my Facebook memories today. Reminding me not only of the great Martha's Vineyard Adventure in 2016, via the Noepe Center for Literary Arts (RIP), but…
Charles Mingus had many things to say, and he used his mouth, his pen, his fists, and mostly his music to say them. Of the myriad words that describe Mingus, passionate would…
My thanks to the excellent journal 805 Lit + Art for publishing my poem Hagler and Hearns, 1985. I’m especially grateful because, let’s face it, arguably the only thing more esoteric than poetry about jazz is poetry…