Costa Rica

This place hasn’t been known to the globalized world without a day of mining it for its riches – it’s a tumult that manifests itself in the quick, uneasy glance of a street vendor...


“You’re standing smack in the middle of the rose capital of the world, how does it smell?” Yolie, my local host on a misadventure to Wasco, California, beamed.

Spurned Ashore

Tonight as dark clouds pass thunder-laden, I walk an ocean bed, the glowing creatures of which swarm about my naked legs. Hart Crane isn’t dead.

The Reefing Line

I lived and that meant not doing all the non-living things I did in New York. Sleeping too much. Drinking too much constantly hunting for sex.