The first of a few posts about the new book. You can find it over at the Soobstaeck. Link in the comments.

I’m not sure whose voice I hear in my head when I write, but I know I hear the edges of @ryanculwell’s accent in it. Half our lives ago, I sat on his front porch on a Sunday afternoon, listening to him write a song, and he leaned his head back and words tumbled out. Nonsense at first. But then they took a shape. Neighborhood kids appeared in the yard and watched. I’ve been amazed for a long time that his audacity to knock on the door of the muse. When I sit at the desk, I think of that afternoon. Some times the poems arrive; other times nonsense. But I know they’re there largely because Ryan pointed out the place they live.