|b l o g|
Seen on the bathroom wall at Dbar: 'Erik Kennedy, your days are numbered.' Ha.
Blurbing: '[X's] poems evade and persuade us of the perils and fleshed restitutions of the imaging, mortal life. Again and again, their language inhabits the cusp between gaming and cri de coeur so we are torn, reading, between consolation and alarm.' That is some serious hocus pocus.