This spark will wake up your skin.

•May 11, 2016 • Leave a Comment

An altered picture of my newest puppet.  It was created during the Generator Maker in Residence program and was inspired by the song “No Love” by Death Grips. Pretty much walked out of the music fully formed.  It will be on display (along with the other work produced during the residency) at Generator Maker Space in Burlington, VT through June.


Been done with tame.

•April 6, 2016 • Leave a Comment

It comes for me still.

Just over my shoulder.



Too bad, your suffering wasn’t pretty enough

And you had to destruct in private.

You’ll take what’s on the table because you are a dying star.


I will rebel as long as you punish.

I may never see my own face,

But I’ve seen all of yours.



The rest is drag.

•February 21, 2016 • Leave a Comment

I struggle to document and share projects, especially when they are in progress. It seems to be a fairly common problem for some people, and I’m working out ways to improve. In that spirit, I am excited to say that I am in the (almost) middle of a two-month residency at Generator. Just shy of two years old, Generator is a maker space in Burlington, Vermont housed in the Memorial Auditorium building. It is my goal to learn to make more efficient, stronger and interchangeable components for my ongoing puppet project. If you are familiar with my work, you may know that I’ve been making large doll/puppet/costume things for several years. I’ve settled on Puppet Drag to describe the strange hybrid I’ve got going on. So far, I have learned some basics about machining, laser cutting, 3D printing and electronics to apply to future puppets. I am grateful to have the opportunity to work at Generator with so many interesting and talented people. I will aim to share more here soon. Until then, a picture of my Krampus puppet loitering outside Generator.12342735_10207676303128258_2437963592658080685_n

A wish you made is plucked

•December 30, 2015 • Leave a Comment

You know who you are.

Dance around the fire with a gas can.

Pry the meat from my bones with your fingers.

Pull me through you so veins snap across skin.

Take the hard parts of me and soften them.

Understand you are in my blood now,

A cherished permanence.


I sent my better self on ahead

•November 5, 2015 • Leave a Comment

The best purple.
Dead woman’s eye shadow.
I can look at you again.
Not like that last time.
Your face looked caved in.
The man warned us first.
Why did I not take your picture?
Three falls to take you down.
Five bullets to the heart.
One massive icicle through your skull.
It’s that kind of day.
Coldest rain and fiercest wind.
Oh, but the sun is so warm.
You can’t see it or me.
Your memory hurts my skin.
My eyes are greener now.


This is mine to remember.

•October 24, 2015 • Leave a Comment

Ash carapace settled on every jut of bone. I see your outline there. I can’t blink. You rest now by the side of the road in a trash bag covered with frost. Left this way, nameless. Whisper one of the stories to me. Tell me your mother once drove you two neighborhoods away with the box of kittens warm on your lap. Told you to leave them on the corner under the Ruggles sign. Years later, it would be a dog and a field in Goochland. Comprehension denied. Return to your seat wearing her blood stained underwear. The elastic woman kind. At school, they talk of a problem and it’s you. Knowledge of rot as long as you’ve had breath. Fortunate you, decomposition is a state of comfort. I write you because I dig for wrists and fingers when the soil is soft. I sprint against the hard freeze.tmp_19507-2015-10-24 05.55.42-2075925288


•September 28, 2015 • Leave a Comment

Two rag dolls

Soaked in kerosene

A lit match suspended between them

One could say

You saw your own doom

Ran toward it

That crystal ball

Bending your wrists

Behind your back

Knowing the cost

Was no deterrent

Guaranteed pain incentive

Char of a dying star

Vision of control

Pile of ash on the floor