Guest Poet
James Dufficy is an old friend who lives in London. He can observe the farce that is america from afar, or...
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HELL IN A VERY SMALL PLACE
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Why Literature?
Most recent articles
The House of Fame
When my old friend Matthew Tolley was found dead, at the age of 35 (I think, the year escapes me now), in...
Bugs
 Aphids have attacked the new growth on all of my rose bushes. They are foul, disgusting and full of the...
Benefit Film
Last year Tim Congdon, a renegade poet and impresario who lived for a while in Ithaca, contacted me about...
Burton on Beer
I began reading The Anatomy of Melancholy on the recommendation of Ford Maddox Ford, who praised it in The...
The Bed
This is the place where she lay her head when she went to bed at night And this is the place our children...
The Four Zoas of American Poetry
A causal reader of this blogh might conclude that I am an anti-intellectual when it comes to poetry. While I...
Gynocracy and its Discontents
Every now and again an upstart crow breaks free from the ivory tower and lands on the lawns of popular...
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THE MAN WHO CAN'T DIE
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GAHA: BABES OF THE ABYSS
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SPECIMEN TANK
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