Tiara.

Call it a sabattical: I spent some time wearing a tiara at the beach. Those who know me in real life know this is not a fabrication.

So, a brand new year, and lots of things are different already. Mister Pants has returned. Spalding Gray has gone missing. Angels are falling out of the sky like broken satellites.

Also, a friend of mine, Simmone Howell, now has a story up at the Barcelona Review. Fancy.

I've got two pieces up too, a pdf of an old poem at Going Down Swinging , and a search poem called A Prank Call To John Howard in the latest issue of Cordite.

A search poem, by the way, is what you get when you type a 'title' into, say, Google, and then fashion the results into something that looks like a poem. Mine are not the best example of the form; I suggest checking out some of the others on the site.