Welcome to the Yapping Section, where a bit of everything finds its way to the surface. Expect break room journal entries, stray opinions, quirky musings, serious essays, and glimpses into bigger projects still brewing. It's a place where thoughts roam freely and ideas collide.
Mulberry
Once upon a time, on the last Monday of each month, they had this open mic poetry night, and I’d always write a spur-of-the-moment, rather silly poem just for the occasion. Light as a feather, a fun reprieve before I returned to the more serious business of prose the next day. It was a bit of fun, a creative little game I played. I realize, it’s been quite some time since then... and I wanted to try for real. This is me trying. This is Mulberry.
3 Creams, 2 Sugars, and a Dash of the Celestial: Time Spent at the Roots Brew Shop
In the core of Grand Rapids, on the corner of Seward and Seventh, sits Roots Brew Shop, nestled into the polished shell of the Seventh Street Lofts—a coffee shop occupying its rightful place as the creamy center of a pastry priced out of reach for most of the neighborhood. Across the street, a bus stop plays host to the typical minor mischief you’d expect from unhoused locals, fresh off their rounds at the food bank down the block. But for the most part, the area is postcard perfect. The lofts themselves, from the outside, have all the appeal of a trendy urban haven—spacious, industrial-chic, with just the right amount of exposed brick to remind you how far you've come. Of course, being a regular at Roots doesn’t grant you access to the loft parking spots. Still, there are worse fates than having to parallel park on the street. The short walk past the loft entrance, flanked by pruned greenery, feels almost idyllic. Trees arch overhead, casting a gentle shade over the patio tables where patrons linger, sipping their artisanal lattes and pretending not to notice the mild, often entertaining drama unfolding across the street.
He’s Ordinary…
A preview of a short story featured in Music, Memory.
"She was a bit guilty she wasn't a bit guilty."
Available in the store.
Who is the Greatest American Writer? Blurbing on break.
Which dead white guy do I like best?
Journal thoughts from the break room that were (unusually) normal and fit for sharing.
Opinion/Yap
Poetry Ick
A silly or not so silly poem I wrote right before that same open-mic a while back!
A Decade Under the Influence
A non-linear unraveling of a young life, told in a collage of mundane and definable events from the one afflicted. Full collection with dozens of entries featured in Music, Memory, below are a few highlighted excerpts.
Fiction.
Banned from the Library! - An Appeal
Why I'm not longer welcome at a certain branch of Libraries in the Midwest told through my plea.
Doggone Steve!
Nonfiction.
