2 poems in Grey Sparrow

http://greysparrowpress.sharepoint.com/Pages/Summer2012PoetryIrwin.aspx

Peace Time

http://philadelphiareviewofbooks.com/2012/06/11/peace-time/

a memoir by my good friend Damian Sebouhian.

10 minute play in Philadelphia Review

http://philadelphiareviewofbooks.com/2012/06/04/checkpoint/#comments

Samuel Menashe

great photo of Samuel Menashe by Rainer Hosch

http://www.rainerhosch.com/

UNDONE

Here's a link to Mad Hatter's Review #13 with a special tribute to Carol Novack, who passed away last  year.

My one man/one act play was performed at the Willits Shakespeare Tent in 2011. click here for the link.http://www.madhattersreview.com/issue13/index.shtml and then go to DRAMA.

2 poems in The Potomac

link to journal is here.

Stations of the Cross

http://catholicworkerfiction.blogspot.com/2011/10/stations-of-cross.html

future cycle press

future cycle press

"Cadillacs" & "Some Days It's A Love Story" are in their special anthology: American Society: What Poets See.

The Prose Poem Project

The Prose Poem Project

WRITING TO REMEMBER

This morning, while driving, sunlight hit my hands. My veins pulsed in the glow. It reminded me of our conversation last night, about that man in Arizona who learned to capture moonlight and heal the body. You said there wasn’t much going on. Nothing on TV, but commercials. I was engulfed in Camus: the scene where the boy is convulsing with plague filled me with envy. On the news they talked about a super model who died mysteriously, the economy, the war, how bodies were thrown into wells and children, with missing limbs, had flies covering their faces. I’m drinking coffee now. It’s three in the afternoon, overcast. I’m still without work, writing this letter to remember. I forget so many things.

Scripted One Acts @ Willits Shakespeare Tent

http://www.thewillitsshakespearecompany.org/events.html

BLACK AND TANNED

for Eric

Black and tanned we hurly-burlied through

the ship swaying of streets and doorways,

and maze of cityscapes,

amid the sweat of clinking glass laughs,

propelled by a taste for the tragic.

                               

In a bitter swill of

blurred anecdotes and redundancies

we have talked of heroes, villains and

the sacredness of socks.