“What remains is a poetry of growls and mud.” – Mick Parsons, 2023
I write where I am; this includes the world of work, traveling, and family life. I’m a rubber tramp that’s mostly settled down, a former steamboat engineer, a former educator, and former journalist. I’ve worked in factories and in warehouses and offices all over the country. My poetry is my ongoing effort to dig deeper and explore this collective and personal experience called being human.
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Latest from the Blog
The Condition of the Honor Guard Gets Less Important
Being on the river, being a son, and remembering the anniversary of my dad’s death The river rose and fell quick. A late August sweat box, the Ohio Valley takes its pound of flesh one drop at a time. I’m smoking on the wharf before the Sunday cruise. It’s almost time to go get…
Somewhere in the distance
call out the fireflies / for evening watch.
Which will make you rethink your religion
At some point, you make the fire walk. No one said it was going to be easy. You’ll never have the right shoes the best circumstances the perfect weather. Your shoes will be falling apart and full of holes that let in every arctic wind every downpour and puddle. Your socks will get uncomfortably wet…
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