A Podcast and Poem for the 4th Anniversary

New work on fathers, family, and the mystery of all relationships

This is my favorite photograph. Me and my father, Joe T, looking equally annoyed that our picture is being taken. Two grumpy men, so often grumpy in exactly the same way.

I included this picture in my little book of poems, stories, and photos: Sometimes I Still Pray: A Family Album.

I share it today, September 16, because it’s the fourth anniversary of Joe T’s death. I don’t remember many dates. My brain never seems to retain important numbers. I remember this one.

As it happens (I hadn’t really considered it until now), the most recent episode of my podcast, Be True, includes a reading of a poem about Joe T, “The Narrow Gate”—originally published in All the Lonely American Roads, and republished in Sometimes I Still Pray.

It’s’ my favorite episode so far—about family, growing up, and the mystery of relationships. It’s also a pretty good tribute to my father…and maybe to parents in general. Do we ever really know what they’re thinking?

Be True is available on Substack, Apple Podcasts, and Spotify. If you listen and like it, please tell your friends, leave a review, or click some stars.

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My City of Yesterday available now…

Thanks to everyone who has read and responded so positively to my newest chapbook, My City of Yesterday, with a cover by Ted Randler and illustrations by Pete Shorney.

If you haven’t seen it yet, I hope you will soon. I’m very proud of this one…a little bit of Odysseus in the American suburbs.

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New poems out in the world…

I’m very grateful to The Nuthatch for featuring my poem “The mind is the same as the mountain” for the week of September 4, and to Maya and The Closed Eye Open team for including “Thunder” among its August “micros.” Both are available online.

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Excerpt from My City of Yesterday

I am trying to write my way to peace, 
to find a destination for my drive.

I have lived a life of not quite arriving, 
like a seed swept up in the higher currents, 
forever circling.

I have only woven half of my love’s portrait.
I never finish anything.

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Luna speaks…

“I’m sorry, John. I still don’t see the resemblance between us. And, quite frankly, I’m offended by the suggestion.”