Month: April 2026

The Good News

Things are shit in the world, but they’re looking up here in Toquerville, Utah. Check out all the good news:

  1. The sheriff who was nasty to me when I was traumatized and manic resigned.

  2. The bookstore in Hurricane where part of my mania played out in 2023 is under new ownership, so I feel like I can go in there again.

  3. The neighbor who wrapped his house, his car, and himself in American flags has moved.

  4. Only one truck rolled coal at me when I was out today.

  5. I saw two dozen baby goats by the side of the road.

  6. The pond at my neighbor’s house has been repaired and filled.

  7. The feral peacocks have returned to the pond.

Reflecting Light

Speaking of loneliness, I once played with light as a friend. When my brother-in-law, who was much older than me and a physicist, was visiting one summer, he showed me how to capture light in a small mirror and project it onto a wall. After he left, I played with the light for hours and hours in an otherwise dark hallway, the one that led to my parents’ separate bedrooms and to my bedroom and to everything that happened in them. I don’t know what I thought I was going to accomplish by getting a ball of light to bounce around on those nicotine-beiged walls, but I knew it was better than going it alone in that house. My light friend was everything to me that summer. It only let me down on cloudy days.

Alex Caldiero Memorial Essay

On this second day of April, I’m honored to share Scott Abbott’s tribute essay about Utah poet, sonosopher, composer, and musician Alex Caldiero, published today by Rob McLennan at periodicities : a journal of poetry and poetics. This tribute means so much. I only knew Caldiero’s work, but I recognize what a loss it was for Utah and for poets, artists, thinkers, and creative folks everywhere when he died. Rob was kind enough to reach out to me after I posted about Alex’s death to see if anyone wanted to write something about his work. Scott generously took the time to write this piece about Alex, his life, and his work. Read it. Then read it again whenever you start to think poetry and the arts don’t matter. Ad astra, Alex.

Images: 1. Alex Caldiero with Scott Abbott. 2. A poster for a Howl event with Alex Caldiero at the bottom. 3. An open page from one of Alex Caldiero’s notebooks.

Holy Nodding Donkeys!

I know it’s April Fools’ Day, but this is no joke. My full-length manuscript Crude has been accepted for publication. It took most of the morning to write that last sentence because it doesn’t seem real. I’m actually just sitting here now thinking of what to write next.

I feel funny in a good way like when you have a colonoscopy and they give you Propofol so you wake up loving everyone and wanting to call them on the phone to say I love you and you love your gastroenterologist so you tell him so and you love the nurses and techs so you tell them so and you run around in the waiting area in your paper gown with your butt hanging out telling everyone you can how much you love them because you love them you really do you really love them.

I’ll share more details when I can. At that time, I’ll do a more formal announcement that doesn’t read like this one.

Image: Black Gold, by Deborah Naves.