Thanks to Frequency Writers, I’m creating poetry with a more academic, experimental approach. Here’s my first time writing a Cento.

Here are my source materials:

1 “My Life by Water” by Lorine Niedecher

2 “Unicorn Believers Don’t Declare Fatwas” by Nada Gordon

3 “A Thousand Virgins Shout Fuck Off” by Elizabeth Treadwell

4 “Some Pink in Your Color” by Amy King

5 “Fragment 1: Sea-ward, white gleaming thro’ the busy scud” by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

6 “To the Swimmer” by Countee Cullen

7 “Clotilde” by Guillame Apollinaire, translated by Donald Revell

8 “Repose of Rivers” by Hart Crane

9 “They Come” by Cathy Park Hong

10 “Latero Story” by Tato Laviera

“A Cento to See You” – July 2015

 Rabbits –  1

Linseed-eyed and broad of face, 9

3 We douse ourselves with flame retardant 9

4 And douse the town to flame – 9

5 a tarred prehistoric castle. 9

6 Heaven why? 3

My life, 1

My heart, goes out to you of dauntless courage and spirit indomitable 6

9 Into my heart, grown each day more tranquil and peaceful, comes a 6

10 struggling, 6

11 gnawing, 1

12 fierce longing 6

13 my hands shelving themselves… 10

14 is squandered by night. 7

15 Salivating on my index finger, 10

16 a balloon of such gravity I ache for stars in a jar, 4

17 congested with putrid residues, 10

18 pointed toward 1

19 wasps, whose love reminds me of fireflies tonight. 7

20 Several times a day I touch evil rituals… 10

21 of the soft 1

22 and serious – 1

23 seaward, white gleaming thro’ the busy scud 5

24 Rise up and ride in 9

25 my shore, 1

26 raided. 1

27 Now as I watch you, strong of arm and endurance, battling and 6

28 Along each town we pass 9

29 How much I would have bartered! The black gorge, 8

30 A craving for shadows 7

31 As we eye from afar, 9

32 we rave and rove and gore 9

33 where gloom has lain 7

34 Between love and disdain. 7

35 Road’s a batter of blood and dust 9

36 So many soldiers on the brink of their lives returning! 4

37 And willows could not hold more steady sound… 8

38 Our shadows meet 7

39 with an outward stroke of power intense your mighty arm goes forth – 6

40 We hear other deaths in flames. 9

41 And finally, in that memory all things nurse; 8

42 I have read a guide to success – 10

43 Opened in gardens 7

44 Giving 1

45 to wild green 1

46 Tyranny; they drove me into hades almost… 7

47 So worry about something more important 2

48 what to encounter… 10

49 like getting hit in a collision between 2

50 Dry blood infectious diseases 10

51 of a cancerous cell… 10

52 Indigestions somewhere down the line… 10

53 The cherry blossoms of August… 4

54 I can’t imagine the heart anymore 4

55 Oddly enough, there is a 2

56 Hold, I say. 9

57 Did you know I’m in this hospital bed? 4

58 Whose pulse is worn down with an IV to the head. 4

59 Someday I might become experienced enough 10

60 I’m not. I’m in the same light you stand in, 4

61 Till age had brought me to the sea. 8

62 After the city that I finally passed, 8

63 Passed too fast, nearly in the flash of Rose 9

64 Guts – 3

65 Now that it presses my ribs apart, 4

66 From my territories 10

67 To make it big 10

68 But I cannot use rubber gloves… 10

69 Where cypresses shared the noon’s 8

70 Posts on, as bent on speed, now passaging 5

71 Spring’s 1

72 Flags, weeds. And remembrance of steep alcoves 8

73 A town of shacks painted kiwi green 9

74 Ride into a town of tires stacked 9

75 To offer “technical assistance.” 10

76 Stamp the earth rind down. 9

77 Shuck our boots and nap on. 10

78 We are all Snow Birds atop 4

79 Moonlighting at night as a latero 10

80 Moonlighting until dawn by digging 10

81 that in order to get rich 10

82 “I have to sacrifice myself” 10

83 (Are you writing your name?) 3

84 The pond I entered once and quickly fled – 8

85 Now floats upon the air, and sends from afar 

86 Are we still talking to the same god? 

87 We are from the world above, 

88 We can never rest. 9

89 And now you must follow: 7

90 I am thinking of publishing 10

91 A wildly-wailing Note – 

92 Arts and letters… 1

93 Slimy grease blood hazardous waste materials… 10 

94 Such heartbreaking “I love you O My God” 4

95 And though my lips would speak, my spirit forbids me to ask, 6

96 “Are you here from the world above?” 9

97 Two – 1

98 Are you here from the world above? 9

99 Are you here from the world above? 9

100 Is your heart as true as your arm? 6

granny frost_blown cleen

Check out my latest article for the Boston Hassle, featuring spoken word/noise punk Granny Frost!


Boston Hassle + The Lankville Daily News = “News from Lankville” THIS JUST IN!


by Sarah Samways, Contributing Female


Resident “sad girl”, Desdemona Dylan, 19, is reported to have suffered from severe ennui with a touch of a hysteria after spilling a glass of almond milk yesterday morning. Too absorbed in a book of poetry that she was reading, she failed to see where the edge of her kitchen table was and placed the glass down into thin air. Gravity withstanding, the glass shattered onto the hardwood floor and all its contents went to waste. Dylan’s cat got frightened and ran out of the room. Witnesses were on the scene.

“She’s having a really hard time right now,” said an unnamed roommate of Dylan’s, “that was the last of her almond milk until she gets paid from CafHey!, that donut shop that she works at. It’s a big loss.”

“They make all the girls wear these tight shirts and black yoga pants in order to make tips at the drive-thru window,” claimed Dylan, in between sobs, “and they make sure all the products are up on the highest shelves so when you reach up to get stuff for customers, you’re pretty much always giving them a peek at something. The manager always adjusts our name tags while breathing really heavily and I’m pretty sure I saw a hole in the wall of the employee bathroom. But it’s like, a job so…”

Upon hearing these allegations, CafHey! could not be reached for comments. A crowdsourcing fund to help Dylan get another carton of milk is in the works.



Sources are reporting a strange event that occurred at approximately 6PM last night. Area woman, Felicity Finch, 36, compounded by debt and demons, began to excrete twenty dollar bills in quick succession.

“It was quite a scene,” said on-looker Bill Golden, “I was just walking through the park and all of a sudden I see this woman hunched over in pain and then begin to shoot money out of her ass. It was disturbing but fortuitous and, to be frank, I did kind of enjoy it. Things haven’t really gone as I had hoped.”

The event lasted for a good hour and a half and resulted in a pile of money totalling over a thousand dollars. Finch was immediately taken to the hospital via ambulance and was fully examined. Dr. Punav Suresh, the first on the scene, was baffled.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before. The patient did not consume money because she didn’t have any to begin with. What appears to have happened is that due to the high volume of stress caused from the constant chatter of bill collectors, student loans, and random people hitting her up for money, her body took over and provided. It provided in a big way. We are only just beginning to understand the miracles of human anatomy. The body can heal itself in all kinds of amazing ways. All her problems are solved and she looks great.”

The Lankville Daily News soon realized that this sounded like an allegory for prostitution and gave Dr. Suresh a finger wag and a furrowed brow like you wouldn’t believe.



Some local teenage girls were seen breaking beer bottles with baseball bats in an empty parking lot yesterday afternoon. Stolen grocery store carriages were being used for transportation and candy was consumed. One girl was heard to be devising an all-girl punk band for sport and spite, the others agreed reluctantly.

“We can’t play the instruments, but we can learn,” the leader said triumphantly, “We may not know how to read music, but I hear it’s all self-explanatory! We may not have a place to practice but we can break into people’s basements after work! So we have nothing to say, we’ll lead agonizing lives intentionally until we do have something to say! We may be ugly and have crippling stage fright and be kinda dumb, we’ll just put bags over our heads so the audience doesn’t have to see us and we don’t have to see them!”

Running out of breath, the leader collapsed onto the pavement. The other teens mumbled and began taking selfies. The “meeting” later reconvened and everyone forgot what was said.

“We should totally start a band,” said one.

The leader later died.


full color

Check out my latest article for the Boston Hassle featuring cybergoth trio Full Color!

Phil & Libby's Wedding, 6/7/2014

Boston Hassle + The Lankville Daily News = A Romance Column


“Summer Thunder” by Jill Candles (Devon Fick)

Ken came to our little street in late June, the first night, the first night of the summer thunder. It rattled my windows and, later, it rattled my bed frame as though portending what would happen later in that summer, that summer of the summer thunder.

The next morning, he was standing on the Stevensons’ lawn next door, shirtless. The Stevensons had gone away for the entire summer, that summer of thunder. “Hi,” he said. “I’m here to do some raking.” I nodded and felt a palpable heat rise up from the sidewalk. It was the heat of summer, true, that summer of thunder, but it was another kind of heat that formed a bridge between Ken and I, though we didn’t yet know it.

I went to my summer job at the library. It was a morning of folding gigantic newspapers over gigantic rulers. It was tedious. I stared outside at the cascading summer sun. Would it thunder today? Would it?

My reverie was broken by the appearance of Ken in the library vestibule. He was still shirtless. I took notice now of his chiseled features, his glistening pectorals, his clean and pressed tan slacks. Old Miss Higgins, the head librarian approached him.

“Yes, I’m looking for a gigantic newspaper on a gigantic ruler,” he said. He smiled, showing off two rows of perfect pearly whites. “I would like to have a look at the weather report,” he added, puffing out his strong, clean chest. “The sky…it looks as though…well, I mean, I wonder if it might thunder tonight.”

And he looked right at me. For what seemed like a luscious eternity our eyes locked. And then I heard that inner voice.

You’ve urinated in your panty hose again, Jill. Better make a beeline for the ladies room.

I looked down. There was the initial spot on the dusty wood floor. I hightailed it out of there.

Later, I cut through back yards and alleys, hoping I wouldn’t see him. Distantly, I could hear thunder. Summer thunder. I passed the open lot where a gigantic pumpkin fire had been raging for two years. There was a strange man standing there with a handmade sign that read “SEX REVOLUTION”. I hurried. The thunder came heavier now. The summer thunder.

There was the gate. Mom was out there with a huge basket of wet white clothing. She heard the thunder. But to her, the thunder was merely a warning having to do with laundry, not love. It came again, it was closer. I began crying.

My hand was on the gate now. And then, another hand was over it. A strong hand.

It was Ken’s.

He was shirtless but had changed into a pair of pressed green slacks. “Don’t be scared of the summer thunder,” he said. Then, he gurgled something incoherent. The thunder was right above us. We kissed passionately. And there was the voice.

You’ve urinated in your panty hose AGAIN, Jill! You must find an excuse to break away.

But I didn’t. And Ken didn’t seem to mind.


Featured Image -- 2517


“I’m phenomenal and you know in your gut that it’s true.”

Originally posted on The Lankville Daily News:

By Suzy Sweetly-Services By Suzy Sweetly-Services

I was reading hieroglyphics that were carved into a broom, out loud and to myself nonchalantly. The floor was filthy but nobody else was going to put the cakes in these urinals. There are just some things that some people aren’t willing to do in this life and that’s where I come in. I’m phenomenal and you know in your gut that it’s true. I suffered injuries on the job, most recently a bruise to the areola. Like everything else, you have to brush it off in order to focus on the bigger picture. Its coloration matched the scrapes on my neck anyway. I’m tougher than I look.

I’m making that good toilet money and everybody knows it. I stay up real late and get up real early and I go to work, like it’s nobody’s business – because it isn’t, nobody keeps these kind of hours…

View original 242 more words


Check out my flyer for this show and then go to this show.


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OH HEY THERE DID YOU SEE THIS? THANK YOU I LOVE YOU. “Pass the hat over here. You’re probably being bombarded by several good causes in need of your help, scrolling down your newsfeed in a cascading blur of pixels. Well, I’m about to add my own two cents into the mix in that hopes that you’ll add yours…I make stuff because yes, the world needs another artist.”

dr. kevin thurston_1

In conjunction with The Lankville Daily News, Boston Hassle is pleased to host a weekly article called “News from Lankville.” This week’s news features an editorial from Men’s Feelings Expert, Dr. Kevin Thurston.


Dr. Thurston is an expert on men’s feelings.


It is very important to understand if you are: 1. male and 2. suffering from horrifying relentless inner torment. If both qualifiers are true, it is important to stay away from high balconies. You want to live, you just want to end that relentless inner torment that we talked about earlier. And the best thing to do is contact Dr. Kevin Thurston, expert on men’s feelings.

Right now, Dr. Kevin Thurston is having a “summer feelings sale”. For just $49.95 (Lankville taxes included), you can meet with me in my cool, damp office basement (I have those thick glass blocks to prevent the theft of collectibles) and discuss your “feelings health profile board”. We will carefully go over your personal experiences, point out your various character flaws and end with a short session in which various objects will be offered to you at discount prices. Right now, we have a nice orange rug, for example. It’s got a pad beneath it to prevent slipping. Just $29.95, adds zest and a certain quality of orangish elegance to living spaces, small and large.

If you think your feelings health profile board is just fine, Dr. Kevin Thurston has a message for you: it can always be better. And I’m here for you (until 3:45 PM). As a man who has suffered from a deeply-damaged feelings health profile board, I can say from experience that it doesn’t make you less of a man. It just means that you need my analysis. I may suggest several methods of reconstruction: it could be writing and performing your own three-hour wordless autobiographical one-man play (which is what I did), it could be joining me on a journey of discovery and fear (which is what some others have done) or it could be buying some things at discount prices.

So if you need a friendly ear to listen to you or a friendly mouth to say some things to you, you can know you can count on Dr. Kevin Thurston.

Expert on men’s feelings.

This article has been paid for by Dr. Kevin Thurston. Photo by Gregory Marinaccio. 




Check out my article in the Boston Hassle on surf/dream pop outfit, Wakes! Fall in lust this summer.



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