2026, Field Notes, Ohio River Valley Literature, poetry

They will call this

Someday They will call this age of America

the Age of The Partisans

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2023, Ohio River Valley Literature, poetry, the no-scape, Working Class Literature

Autumn 2023, no. 11

the cicada symphony sets today’s rhythm
and expectation

it’s a day best suited for gills and exoskeletons

sloughing off this skin
one drop of sweat at a time

unsure of what the rebirth will look like
or if this will be the waking from a dream

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2022, Day Book, essay, nonfiction, Ohio River Valley Literature, readings

Day Book: 3 March 22

“A cicada taught a young dove, saying with a laugh…” – Chuang Tzu


When I was 10 I saw a legion of 17-year cicadas fly against the wall-sized window of a car dealership in Southern Indiana. If hitting the glass didn’t kill them the first time, they just kept flying towards it.

I think about this whenever Amanda and I talk about living in Capitalism.

At this point, it’s not even about learning something, being shown something. We know. At this point, it’s just being hammered by the same truth over and over. The spiritual equivalent of a cicada’s life. Brief. Seasonal. Forward. Learned but not wise.

The problem isn’t the big glass window. The problem isn’t that we’re cicadas.

The problem is we’re doves. Laughing cicadas have nothing to teach.

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