Language has a way of skirting around in the margins. These margins collide with concepts, where the inner worm bashes against the outer skin of self, brushing against the ridges of intertextuality. Sometimes I feel like I’m constructing a system of art, other times I feel like I’m coughing up random words. Both cut into me and break out of me. This is a place of margins.


8 thoughts on “About

  1. I’m starting to enjoy your posts and perhaps understand the struggles worded within them. We want, but to take, depletes the beauty, of once what was there. A wonderful friend Jeremy, got his PhD from Yale, and followed Henry Winkler to CA, where we became friends (Jeremy and I), not Henry. I was a drug addict at the time, and his words were beyond my comprehension. But his desire for me to improve myself is what got me clean. Your poetry has that same effect, and I thank you for them.

    Liked by 5 people

  2. Joseph, it should be on the site proper. If you click on my blog name and enter the bog’s theme, you should see the button near the bottom of the scroll. If you still are having problems, then message me again and I will look into it. Thanks. I like the look of your blog!


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