It’s been far too easy for far too long for the cultural imagination of the secular west to envision an aged Christ as some mellow, tie-dye hippie professor who has

While my first volume of poetry, COCKFIGHT LOSER, was a 7-book opus of layered imagery, in the lineage of the great Brooklyn poets, Whitman and Crane, this chapbook, FORTY VIALS,

In a sense, this book has always been, spoken or jotted across casual and high idioms, in pre-language’s primordial energies, in the knowing hackneyed phrase or joke, and ambient quotidian