Author Archives: jonwolston

Stalin comes in my office with a hangnail. Right off the bat there’s confusion over his medical chart on account of his new name. We get that straightened out, but his damn flowergirls out in the waiting room won’t stop … Continue reading →

Tired of turning blue as slate my soul came up for air. The wreckage of the Pequod lay tangled in my hair. I combed out Captain Ahab and that gold coin from the mast. I can’t find Stubb or Starbuck. … Continue reading →

Down at the Fairgrounds– a bio of Howlin’ Wolf, applecake chaser.

Click on the “Books” and “Reviews” pages for news about my third collection, due out this fall.  Entitled “Two Tars,” it explores the psyche’s shadowy archipelago of fear and death 🙂

Off to a slow start. This heart wall’s a doozy. Three fawns on the dump road.

On the road at eight. Rain all the way to Hampton. Six dogs in the truck.

A trapped emotion of horror drains from my oropharynx. A sneeze disperses jealousy– ambient beads into a fist. Lighter, I write. A deep deep breath a wider world.

Philip Levine mingles in a baseball cap before his reading, looking like he’s there for Grand Friends’ Day at Moses Brown. An amiable urbanite, he takes his time and patiently fills us in. His hands are dirty but his clothes … Continue reading →

Troy’s slack skin slides under my fingers. He’s out for the count whatever that means, his ribs aligned like ridges on the sandy marge of a brackish delta. If I were younger I could smell him too. When he wakes … Continue reading →

He puts up with me like flypaper does. Who am I to be the judge? He dons his robes with silent eloquence and instructs the jury for me. I smell like a lunchbox found in the back of an orange … Continue reading →