So, today, I recently bought Mosquito by Alex Lemon and sat in a coffee shop, ordered a pumpkin latte, and read the whole damn thing. I couldn’t put it down. It was gruesome, visceral, and it brought me the voice that Elizabeth Gilbert calls a Daemon.  I didn’t have my journal, I didn’t have a pen, or paper, and was too stupid to go grab some scrap from the barista at the counter.  But, this voice, these images, they stuck with me through phone calls on a drive home, a randomly youtube video sent to me, and a few other distractions, but these images and this voice stayed with me.  It housed itself inside me and when I finally got a pen and paper, I jotted them down brief notes, and it came to me that I was realizing the beginnings of a manuscript of poetry that, someday, hopefully, will be considered for publishing.

To read the work, make the jump to the poem.  There’s even a recording!