Can’t make it to my book launch at Next Chapter? No problem! Tune in to my online book launch instead!

We’ve had to postpone it a bit. It’s now going to happen next month, on Saturday, March 15th at 1pm CST.

(Link to follow)

Twin Cities folks! Join me at Next Chapter Booksellers, the evening of February 25th, to celebrate the publication of my debut collection of poetry.

Local poet Claire Wahmanholm will be there to talk with me about my book and the process that led to its composition, and we will read bits of it out loud.

Details here.

There will also be an online launch, but I am waiting to finalize the date before announcing anything. One thing I can say, though: it will happen early afternoon CST, so Europe can tune in after dinner, and Aotearoa/NZ & Hawaii can tune in over breakfast.

There will be two book launches for Vessels: one online and one in St Paul. Both in February.

More details soon!

I deactivated my Facebook and Instagram accounts today, and deleted my Threads account. I wasn’t really attending to any of them anyway.

I remain at my blog, and I maintain a cool, detached demeanor at my Bluesky and Mastodon accounts. That’s more than enough.

I’ll be one of the readers at the first NAWP event of the new year. Register here.

Last, next.

107: Shenandoah (Maple)
108: Vintage

When I travelled to NYC last week, I brought Pilgrim at Tinker Creek with me. It had, once, been very important to me but I don’t think I’d pulled off the shelf in thirty years. I wondered how familiar it would seem after so long. I started it on the plane. A few days later, I arrived at this page:

Omigosh, I almost forgot: I wrote a book!

And now there are a few signed copies at Next Chapter on Snelling Avenue in St Paul.

The first review has already appeared for Vessels.

I am not, of course, the intended audience and as such I find the review entirely too generous and effusive. But I do believe it captures well some of my concerns as a poet and, to some extent, my intent for the book.

And tune in tomorrow evening to see me read from this slice of obliteration pie, this tectonic dissonance, this mute catechism, this liminal aviary.