Winter
Poems and prose from an earlier part of my life. Serious questions, small observations.
Writing
I don’t write on a schedule. I write when an observation, irritation, or question has followed me around long enough.
Sometimes that becomes an argument. Sometimes it becomes a story that cannot decide what genre it is. Sometimes it becomes three lines in Telugu about an eyebrow hair.
This site
New writing will appear here when it appears. I’d rather leave the shelf partly empty than fill it for the sake of looking active.
The old archives
Summer
Travel, movies, ideas, jokes, and long associative detours. Less a tidy collection than a record of where my mind wandered.