Artist’s Statement
I can’t make statements about what I make that will be true for everything, or will be true tomorrow. Sometimes I write poems backwards. I see their shape before I know anything else. Then I try to write under the cloud of this shape, trying to fill it with a narrative that perfectly inhabits it. That never works. So I try to find something that is warped in the right places, or disintegrated the right amount, erased just enough. I like when reading feels like the ancient stone door that begins to click and shift when you push your palm into the right coordinates, except the door never opens because it’s just a wall that endlessly clicks and shifts and never quite explains itself.
A Collection of Visiting Landscapes
I move out of an orange box, the size of a satellite