zine Fest


Come say hi at zine fest and pick up a copy of “Tarantula Hawk Wasp,” my very first zine!

This one comes from my poetic inventory. These zines are tiny lyric essays about the tarantula hawk wasp. The poetic inventory is analogous to a “scientific inventory” of a location’s biodiversity, where field ecologists catalogue all of the flora and fauna present in the area. Unlike a scientific inventory, the works moves beyond a strictly literal cataloging; instead it explores the relationship between “wilderness and civilization,” human impact on designated nature zones/open space, and how wilds reemerge within the city.

I started making this zine to think through some of the issues of the poetic inventory that I have been working on. First I started making artists books out of some of the poems, then hammering others onto pieces of wood, turning some into small art projects, and really just experimenting with what a poem can be and how it can be communicated.I think that zines are incubators for ideas. They allow for experimentation, risk, and failure–and therefore growth.

It’s also important to note that playing with different materials and ideas has been a much more fun method of redrafting and revising. The most frustrating part has been finishing a small print run and finding a typo.

My exploration into autobiographix and essay comics continues!


More about zine Fest: ABQZF, now in its 7th year, is the oldest zine Fest in New Mexico. ABQZF is community-accountable and fosters a non-competitive, diverse, queer-friendly, creative environment for zinesters in the city of Albuquerque, and beyond. ABQZF is Woman of Color-founded, Ally-supported, Woman-run. Show up for the fun, Saturday, October 7, 2017 at Harwood Art Center, 1114 7th Street NW in Downtown Albuquerque.

Pillow Book


My freshman class (The Legacy of Storytelling: Creative Nonfiction) just finished reading the “Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon.” In class, the students made their pillow book zines. Then we curated and made a class one:

Things that create the appearance of deep emotion: Allergies. Yawning. Cutting an onion. Typing in ALL CAPS. Weddings. The death of a grandmother you never knew.

Alarming looking things: A homeless person sleeping on a bench. A woman walking alone at night. Skin peeling from a sunburn.

Repulsive things: Days old food stuck on the side of the sink. The sticky floor as you step on it with socks. A tickle behind your ear, realizing it’s a fly.

Terrifying things: Cactuses. Flying insects. A tarantula darting out from under a dark porch.

Things people despise: wet towels never drying in the winter. Gruesome talk while eating. A building with many stairs but no elevator. Gum on the floor. Getting into a hot car that’s been sitting outside on a hot day. A person wide awake at 7 am on a Monday.

Dispiriting things: no calculators allowed on a calculus test. When your group says, “Oh good, we got a smart one!” It’s 11pm and you have a paper due at 11:59 pm.

Things that fall: the stock market. Leaves in autumn. Eyelids after drinking a warm glass of milk. Rose petals as hose water sprays them. Shadows from a nearby building.

Things that look fresh and pure: a newly made bed. A blank page. An unused book. A clean mirror. A babbling brook in the middle of a forest. A new snow.

One from Star Trek, One from the New Mexico Statutes



The other day, I sat having coffee with a friend who has just entered his second year of law school. We talked about the tomes he carries to class, the massive amounts of reading and writing, and the creativity needed to frame information as arguments.

He surprised me with an off-the-cuff comment, saying, “You know the thing that most prepared me for law school? Legal writing feels like composing Star Trek fan fiction.”

Fan fiction is—in case you’ve missed the Fifty Shades of Grey racket—derivative work that appropriates the setting, characters, and sometimes, longer arcs to create a new story. I was floored: I immediately understood his metaphor. I worked it out a little more and asked him some questions, so in case you are wondering whether you can put your fan fic cred next to your LSAT score on that up-coming application, here’s a reconstruction of our conversation:

Both have an Official Narrative. The story bible of American law comes from court opinions, commentaries, and of course, bills passed on Capitol Hill. When researching, that’s a lot of conceptual material to draw upon. The Star Trek canon, while disputed, is also fairly developed: over six hundred television episodes and eleven feature films have contributed to the Starfleet’s universe.

“Sorting through all of that source material gave me the patience and stamina needed for legal research,” he said. “I developed a sense of how the whole fits together, so that even if I don’t know where a passage is, I know where to find it—whether it’s biographical information on Captain James T. Kirk or something on acequias and water rights.”

But his metaphor extended beyond research as an act—Star Trek fan fiction taught him about constructing an argument that works within the confines of an accepted reality. While the Official Narrative is fragmented, storylines and premises offered by the source must be followed. If you are presenting an argument to the court, it has to fit in what has been established in our legal universe.

“Fan fiction is an argument to the audience, though if you want to contribute in an official way, you’d have to present the same argument to executive producers, Paramount, etc.”

To a certain degree, you have to conform to the expectations of what’s been established, though the common conception might be debatable.

“Look at Captain James T. Kirk,” he said. “The formative events in Kirk’s life have been developed in the show. If you write about Kirk, those stories have to support a recognized version of him. Is he a womanizing and reckless swashbuckler who relies on his audacity, will, and personality to win?

“Or is he a disciplined, driven strategist willing to bluff his way out of any situation? I’d say he’s not improvising—he’s calculating. Out of seventy-two episodes, he has sex in eleven, and of those, only three are casual and the rest are part of a strategy. He’s not womanizing like James Bond, but he is using people. Anyway, that’s debatable. That would be part of the argument.”

Sometimes, the Official Narrative has a need: a plot point hasn’t been fully developed, small details sound like suggestions, or there’s an inconsistency. If Star Trek is taken on a series-by-series basis, there might be multiple Official Narratives, so some are excluded while others follow their own continuities. New Mexico might mix Spanish and Mexican laws, Western American traditions, and historic pueblo rights.

“The law is filled with incongruities. Our legal tradition has no problem with the idea that contradictions exist, and we don’t worry about them until they become relevant in a specific case. When it benefits us, we’ll say, ‘Wait, New Mexico! You said this in 1993 and this other thing in 2008!’ And you write a new rule to resolve the problem.”

Or something unforeseen comes up. An actor takes a new job and must be written out of the series.

“Legal thought evolves episodically. In the 1950s, judges would have been asking themselves, ‘How will our torts deal with legal problems caused by superhighways when everything we have in place is set up for horses, buggies, the odd automobile?’ And when demonstrations spread across the South, demanding equal rights for African Americans, the judges are blindsided. The question becomes to ‘how can we write new decisions on something we were unprepared for and have them read like a natural evolution of the law?’ You have to be creative to do that.

“Both law and fan fiction add to an ongoing story, contributing something new and creative. It’s a mixture of persuasion, logic, and imagination.”

So he takes the episodic fragments and shapes them into a plausible narrative. His peers view legal writing as a dry, color-by-numbers approach to technical problems, but my friend doesn’t believe that making an argument is just a logical exercise. He’s gotten comfortable with the ambiguities in our legal system. Deep in his heart, I think he knows that only our suspension of disbelief holds it all together.





  1. The Official Narrative: A story bible exists. Conceptual material. ST Canon: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Star_Trek_canon.


court opinions, academic commentaries, and pieces of legislation passed by congress or the state legislature, sometimes fragments or conglomerations. taken together, creates one narrative, have to make an argument to the authorities that your addition should come


st 600 television episodes and 11 feature films—the canon—if you want to contribute to it in an official way, you have to present an argument to exec produces and paramount, etc.


fan fic is an argument to the audience, telling the audience that your piece fits.


so you know who kirk and picard and the united federations. you have to conform to expectations.


I want the court to issue this opinion and this piece will follow the body of knowledge/narrative/universe that we have. it behaves by the same rules.


good fan fic is making it fit, but also doing something new and creative


law must evolve to fit changing circumstances—while this fits with prior American traditions set forth in our constitution.


legal thought happens episodically. an actor suddenly leaves, must be written out of series. demonstrations across the south for equal rights for African americans. 1950s judge wouldn’t have predicted (would be how will our torts deal with superhighways and the legal problems that come up when we’re set up for horses??), but then the


have to make it look like a natural evolution.


took pitches from anyone, not necessarily the writers guild—slush pile of submissions, the production staff would have to (third season—“yesterday’s enterprise” how history had been altered through time travel—was pitched, but then production staff had to deal with the consequences)


take court cases in the 1860s not conceived for present day—here’s a law doesn’t seem relative, but with a great analogy, this is applicable (time travel story)


fan fic is an persuasion, logic, and imagination. adding to an ongoing story.



  1. Although the Official Narrative is fragmented, storylines and premises offered by the source material must be followed:
    1. New Mexico’s water law is derived from the mixture of Spanish and Mexican law with the West’s traditional rule of first in time, first in right. While New Mexico is clearly a prior appropriation state, New Mexico’s water law also accommodates historic pueblo rights and reserved Indian rights.




  1. Parts of the Official Narrative are under debate—are they self-consistent? These storylines and premises may contain contradictions. If there are multiple Official Narratives, are some excluded while some are encouraged to follow their own continuities, like series-by-series?
    1. the law is contradictory all the time. our legal tradition has no problem with the idea that contradictions—don’t worry about it until becomes relevant in a specific case. “wait co! you said this in 1993 and this other thing in 2008!” you must wirte a new rule to resolve this.
    2. canon not consistent: the official dates of the first ST could support either time frame: 2264-2269 or 2270?? the tie-in writer would have to go the eds. at pocket books and say “for the purpose of this book, will be 2269.” or have writers put in a line of dialogue “when our mission ended in 2270.”
  2. The Official Narrative has a need: a plot point hasn’t been fully developed, the details sound like suggestions.
  3. Characters and settings are appropriated:
    1. James T. Kirk. The formative events in Kirks life. If you write about Kirk, those stories have to support the version of (is he womanizing, reckless, flies by seats of pants swashbuckler, casual meaningless sex, audacity and will of personality makes him win.
      1. in 1960s disciplined, driven, calculating strategist willing to bluff his way out of a situation is he has to, but not improvising—he’s calculating. in 72 episodes, he has sex in 11 episodes, and of those only three are casual and the other are part of strategy to . not like james bond. he does use people, but not womanizing. (maybe someone would disagree, but then an argument ensues—that’s what lawyers do.)
    2. the characters in the law are ideas and concepts. (?)
    3. A new story emerges:
    4. Our suspension of disbelief holds it all together.



a lot of law students think that writing legal arguments is like technical writing, but is fascinating and creative. a chore, suck, mechanical.


civil rights and con rights tend to be less dry and technical, more like something you would want to read. a sense of place and character.


oil companies can come to Albuquerque and drill because city and county govs can’t say no once a company was issued permits by the state. look to Colorado for a case that seems similar. a lot of opinions there say (privacy) people have basic individual human rights that the state government hasn’t acknowledged—how will drilling



I have to extract dozens of scattered story fragments (bits of TV episodes, or of judicial opinions) from an Official Narrative (a TV show, or the ironclad statements of the courts), then shape them into a coherent narrative (a Star Trek story that plausibly resonates with previously aired episodes, despite its unofficial status; a legal argument that plausibly fits into the tapestry of US judicial opinions, despite its whacky and unconventional makeup).


making an argument is not just a logical exercise. being comfortable with ambiguities.



“the crossroads of time and character” (welty)

Apply for your self-publishing patent today!


Thinking, Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman sounds like an interesting book:

“Drawing on decades of research in psychology that resulted in a Nobel Prize in Economic Sciences, Daniel Kahneman takes readers on an exploration of what influences thought example by example, sometimes with unlikely word pairs like “vomit and banana.” […}Thinking, Fast and Slow gives deep—and sometimes frightening—insight about what goes on inside our heads: the psychological basis for reactions, judgments, recognition, choices, conclusions, and much more.  –JoVon Sotak

Thinking, Fast and Slow was selected as one of the best books of 2011 by New York Times Book Review, Globe and Mail, The Economist, and The Wall Street Journal, which means more people searching Amazon for the book. Except they might find something else by accident.

Thinking, Fast and Slow was published on October 24th, 2011, the same day that Fast and Slow Thinking by Karl Daniels became available on Amazon.

It’s not a coincidence that the titles and author names appear similar. The second book piggybacked on Kahneman’s, selling Kindle copies to the confused. The author of Fast and Slow Thinking does not exist, because that book is not really a book: it’s internet “content” searched and skimmed and compiled by bots. Some pages only have two words on them. Some of the writing, apparently, even quotes Kahneman.

Who knows who developed this little scheme—when I looked last night, I couldn’t find the book again. But it’s a great trick. All you need is algorithm and you, too, can become a self-publisher and rake in the dough. After all, what’s an e-book market explosion without book-spam to flood your bandwidth?

The internet is nothing but a giant database that you’re already accessing every day, so why not devote a desktop to search, plagiarize, and publish while you play Words with Friends? Call it the “Hello, World!” bot. Once you develop your algorithm, do yourself a favor and patent it.

That’s what Phillip M. Parker did, and now Amazon lists him as the author of 107,000 books.

You read that correctly: 107,000 books published. And he says that he’s created over 200,000. He’s the most prolific “author” to date, with more titles than Alexandre Dumas, R.L. Stine, Isaac Asimov, and Nora Roberts combined (and multiplied by 153).

Parker doesn’t stop at the Amazon marketplace, either. He “generates” poetry, too. According his Wikipedia biography:

Parker has applied his techniques within his dictionary project to digital poetry; he reports posting over 1.3 million didactic poems, aspiring to reach one poem for each of words found in the English language. He refers to these as “edge poems” since they are generated using graph theory, where “edge” refers to mathematical values that relate words to each other in a semantic web. He has posted in the thesaurus section of his online dictionary the values used in these algorithms. Genres produced include the following: acrostic, butterfly, cinquaindiamanteekphrasticfib or Fibonacci poetry, gnomic poetryhaikuKurallimerick, mirror cinquain, nonetoctosyllable, pi, quinzaineRondeletsonnettanaka, unitoum, waka, simple verse, and xenia epigram. Genres were created by Parker to allow one genre of poem for each letter of the English alphabet, including Yoda, for Y (poetry using the grammar structure of the famous Star Wars character), and Zedd for Z (poems shaped in the letter Z). His poems are didactic in nature, and either define the entry word in question, or highlight its antonyms. He has stated plans to expand these to many languages and is experimenting with other poetic forms.

Parker plans to tap the lucrative romance novel market next.

It’s no secret what a raunchy database the Internet makes. Might be time to revisit some small presses.

Do Androids Dream of the Road Not Taken?


To quantify, to know for certain whether a piece of writing is good: this desire is one of my students. I tell them vague, mysterious qualifications. Does it help you transcend time and space and feel for a moment free of some constraint you didn’t know what there? Does it surprise you or lift a veil that you may see human experience more clearly? Does it have image, rhythm, and envoi? But are these quantifiable? Can we develop a system to give a poem a raw score and know whether it’s good?

The Poetry Assessor is designed to do just that.

After reviewing previous studies, Michael Coleman Dalvean was able to develop a set of criteria to weigh the poems. For instance, one study analyzed a sample of 85 known (“successful”) poems and 85 obscure (“unsuccessful”) poems. Successful poems had fewer syllables per word in the first line, tending toward the monosyllabic. They used more common words and had simpler syntax. Simple, direct poems were more likely to be reproduced in anthologies.

Another study reviewed 100 sample poems from professionals (from drawn from Contemporary American Poetry, Poulin and Waters, 2006), 100 from amateurs (at www.amateurwriting.com), and found that professionals used more concrete words. Amateur poets were more likely to use exact rhymes (rather than approximate, or “slant” rhymes), more alliteration, and less variety in word choice. This second study formed much of the research material of the computation study that has resulted in the score generator.

Using another set of variables—including Negative Emotion, Affect, Psychological Process—and the average age of acquisition of a word, the machine captures the content and the presumed difficulty of the words.

To score a poem, simply paste the body into the textbox and click the calculate button. A number will be generated. It would appear that poems scoring in the negative numbers are closer to amateur writing and those in the positive, more professional:

As an indication of how to interpret the placing of the poem on the scale, Sylvia Plath’s poem “Crossing the Water” scores 2.53 indicating that it shares more characteristics of a professional poem than an amateur poem. On the other hand, John Laws’ poem “There are so many Things” scores -2.05 indicating that it is closer to the amateur end of the spectrum.

Of course, I tried out some of my poems. My poems scored between -1.8 and +3.4, with most hitting 1.5, a median, well below the 2.53 Plath level. The poems on the lowest end of the spectrum are forthcoming in a couple magazines; the highest ranked are not. I’m prone to say that it doesn’t mean anything, but I am biased against a quantifiable world.

I suggest that you try some—either your own writing or some of your favorite poems—and let me know what you think. Is the Assessor accurate?

On Abstract Text and the Concrete Object


This winter I’ve had the pleasure of chatting with Sarah Minor, who curates the Visual Essay series at Essay Daily, previously featuring fantastic artist-essayists such as Kristen Radtke, Marian Bantjes, and Bianca Stone. As a part of this series, we spoke about concrete essays, place-based writing, selecting a medium, and editing as art.

You can read our conversation here: On Abstract Text and the Concrete Object.

We will be presenting together at the Nonfiction Now Conference later this spring. The other panelists on “The Kinetic Page in the U.S. and in Iceland: A Discussion and Performance of Multiform Nonfiction” include Sarah MinorKristen RadtkeSarah Rose Nordgren, and Oddny Eir, so if you are headed to Reykjavik, I hope you will stop by!

Coming of Age at the End of Nature


I have an essay that has just been published in this neat anthology, Coming of Age at the End of Nature: A Generation Faces Living on a Changed Planetwhich is edited by Julie Dunlap and Susan Cohen. The collection answers the question: what is it like to be a young adult (born between 1980-2000), growing up on a planet during a time of irreversible anthropogenic damage? As dire as the situation is–climate change, the evaporating Arctic, the implausibility of pristine wilderness–humans are resilient creatures. We have a far biological reach, which allows us to survive in a number of ecological niches. We’re a genus of tinkerers and inventors. Those traits coupled with our humanity–our ability to connect with one another, to laugh even during the worst hard times, to empathize deeply with people we’ve never met–means that we can have hope even in the face of an uncertain future. In my essay, “Urban Foraging,” I write about my time looking for food during the recession. One of the things that I noticed about this unpredictable time, was that whether in line at the food bank, sharing food stamps, or picking fruit from city trees, community persists and often develops around food. And because I’m an optimist, I’ve tried to be hopeful in this essay, so I hope that you will give it a read!

Adventure along the Lewis and Clark Trail


The Reading and Writing the Landscape class just returned from two weeks camping across Montana. We visited several national parks and monuments, as well as Lewis and Clark historical sites and dinosaur dig camps. Here are some photo highlights of our adventure!


Ten Reasons Not to Date an Essayist


1. The essayist will take pride in neuroses. He will go on an on about the joy of scratching his ear with a pencil or brag about how long he hasn’t driven a car.

2. Everyday outings, such as going to the grocery store, will become overwhelming adventures. Huge adventures, like swimming with whale sharks off the coast of the Yucatan, will sound like everyday activities.

3. You will never know where she is. She will insist on trying a diverse range of activities, from accordion lessons to firing a machine gun, claiming it is research for a “Never Have I Ever” column.

4. You will realize that your world is more bizarre than a postmodern short story. You will start anecdotes with, “You can’t make this stuff up!”

5. You will not know whom you’re with at any moment: the character, the narrator, the persona, or the person. You will begin to wonder if you are a character or a person and sometimes narrate the recent past as if a memory from childhood. He will hear you and violate your POV.

6. She will continually write about her mother or her days as an addict or some ethereal night in a place you do not know. You will think that she’s working through a trauma; she will say, no, she’s working on a book.

7. He will make wild claims about disparate subjects, just to test argumentative structure. You will leave each dinner party wondering what he really thinks about cannibals.

8. In conversation, she will meander through thoughts, and just when you’ve forgotten what you were discussing, she will surprise you with a point that brings it all together.

9. You will read the manuscript and ask, “Did I really say that?” Neither of you will know for sure.

10. Time will stop.

Writing Horoscopes

Freewriting, On Writing

Cancer (June 22 – July 22)
Set aside some time this week to watch people at the park, the café, or the doctor’s office waiting room. Go wherever your current tale is set. Pay attention to the movements, appearances, and conversations that make these people real. “When writing a novel a writer should create living people; people not characters. A character is a caricature,” Cancer Ernest Hemingway reminds us.

Leo (July 23 – August 22)
Leo, your comedic timing will be spot on this week. Make sure that every pun leaving your fingertips is working in service of its larger meaning this week. As lioness Dorothy Parker said, “Wit has truth in it; wisecracking is simply calisthenics with words.”

Virgo (August 23 – September 22)
Virgo Roald Dahl once said, “A writer of fiction lives in fear. Each new day demands new ideas and he can never be sure whether he is going to come up with them or not.” Don’t let that fear stall you this week, Virgo. Instead of opening your Word document and experiencing stage fright, tackle that electric white page like a gardener would as he tilled his spring beds. Seize the opportunity to plant, grow, weed, and nurture your ideas.

Libra (September 23 – October 22)
“I believe more in the scissors than I do in the pencil,” admitted fellow Libra Truman Capote. He was speaking of revision. Libra, this week the scales have tipped in favor of cutting, adding, and rewording rather than creating new material. Work through your past drafts dramatically on the first pass and judiciously on the second.

Scorpio (October 23 – November 21)
“Don’t judge each day by the harvest you reap but by the seeds that you plant,”
counsels Robert Louis Stevenson. If you haven’t sent out any material in a few months, don’t fret, Scorpio. Sometimes it’s more important to soak up new experiences, sometimes to sow and sometimes to reap. Focus your creative energies now on generating more new material.

Sagittarius (November 22 – December 21)

According to Sagittarian Mark Twain, “The most interesting information comes from children, for they tell all they know and then stop.” My advice to you this week: chat with that twelve year-old down the block. She knows more than you think she does, and won’t hold back. There’s great material in what she has to say, and perhaps you’ll find the answer to your current writing problem.

Capricorn (December 22 – January 19)
This week you will have a knack for picking up on vocal rhythms, dialects, and rural poetics. Take advantage of Mercury in cross-alignment by getting out of your apartment, your neighborhood, your town—step out of the familiar. Follow, pause, and listen, listen, listen. Open yourself to the mystery and let it in. As fellow Capricorn, Edgar Allan Poe said, “I wish I could write as mysterious as a cat.”

Aquarius (January 20 – February 18)
Aquarius, you are about to enter a period of writing that demonstrates a lyrical clarity marked by charm and gracefulness. Run with it. Let every quirk stay, mingle, and merge with your current project. You never know what you’ll keep in the next draft, but you know it’ll come from this one. Aquarian James Joyce one remarked, “I am tomorrow, or some future day, what I establish today. I am today what I established yesterday or some previous day.”

Pisces (February 19 – March 20)
Pisces, your legacy of flexibility is both a blessing and a curse this week. While you may enjoy a self-styled world, you may feel as if you orbit too far outside of the literary mainstream. Piscean Jack Kerouac advises you to “write in recollection and amazement for yourself.” Take his advice to heart and continue to write for yourself before bending your voice for someone else.

Aries (March 21 – April 20)
Revise, revise, revise, Aries. With Mars in retrograde and Mercury cross-aligned, your creative juices are best suited by picking up that red pen. Find the heart of your project, then, as fellow Aries Samuel Beckett says, “To find a form that accommodates the mess, that is the task of the artist now.” Do not be afraid to try a different form as you revise—ask yourself if your mess will work best as a narrative or a catalogue, and on and on, until you find the best form.

Taurus (April 21 – May 20)
Taurus Vladimir Nabokov once suggested, “A writer should have the precision of a poet and the imagination of a scientist.” Don’t lose sight of the forest through the trees while you work with your line level to be exact and detailed. Work with your language while allowing your imagination to break through plots with commonplace emotional truths. Turn your mind toward creating the kind of conflict that will have you leaping out of the bathtub shouting, “Eureka!”

Gemini (May 21 – June 21)
“When you get into a tight place and everything goes against you, till it seems as though you could not hang on a minute longer, never give up then, for that is just the place and time that the tide will turn, ” Harriet Beecher Stowe reminds her fellow Gemini. This writing fatigue will soon pass and you’ll be losing yourself to the beauty and elegance of your sentences once more.