Read my latest flash, Venison, at 52|250.

My lycanthropic poetics have no gentle side.

My lycanthropic poetics are human, all too human.

My lycanthropic poetics devour weaker poetics by moonlight. They do not care how many children– writhing, bawling poems– their victims have spawned.

My lycanthropic poetics become all manner of beasts, sometimes more than one at the same time.

My lycanthropic poetics never change completely.

My lycanthropic poetics resist even as they throw themselves fully into their shifting roles.

My lycanthropic poetics are always themselves.

My lycanthropic poetics most definitely lean towards the feline.

My lycanthropic poetics believe in wildness above all else.

My lycanthropic poetics only believe in wildness mediated by human neoteny.

My lycanthropic poetics enter the domestic and are not restrained.

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