Poetry
I have been writing “poems”—nearly always backlit with one finger on my iPhone—since 2017. All my readings for several years were attended by one person, Erika Berland, who has a wonderful ear and, somehow, a phenomenal range of reference points. When she laughed, I knew it was a poem. Sometimes the laugh was ha ha, and sometimes it was ah ha. Either was sufficient as an indicator of a poem. I have called this writing “near poems” or “pomes” to allow myself the space to have my own ear, my own rules—in short, to claim limitless subjective space, to, you know, do whatever I wanted in these spaces. This writing is somehow not just writing, and not just thinking. There is some other something in play—a gap that writes the hand, therefore the “writer” is unknown. I don’t know who writes these pomes, some other who has become a companion and a friend. And so, it has gone and continues to go. If you are inclined, you are welcome to follow these near pomes on this page, a breadcrumb trail innocently left, offering passage into a veritable thicket of pomes that have poured out these last several years. You are invited.
Poems From the Realm of Non-Thought
"His solo dance work has been characterized as 'reaching the ecstatic through subtle travails of the flesh' (The Village Voice, Toby Tobias). Recent work has aspired to reach the ecstatic through subtle travails of the sound and meaning of words."
