Trent Nutting has been to Brazil, Utah, Florida, and all the pretend places his children’s books take him. He writes at a three-by-two kitchen table during the dark pre-dawn hours, before his daughters wake up. Some work, though, has seen the light of day. Poems have appeared in Comstock Review, Connecticut River Review, Linebreak, Miracle Monacle, Southeast Review, and elsewhere.
I’d been thinking about leaving. I’d been thinking how there’s something about out here. Before long it’s a new January and you’re hungover with a heartache for a man you won’t see for several years until he pops up on that very popular, critically-acclaimed sitcom with that actress you learned to like, then hate, then feign indifference abou
The leak in your breathing/ tube makes a cartoon squeak./ It takes two nurses, silent/ as nuns, to place you/ in my arms...
If I have already/ gone insane/ but I want to get/ crazier yet,/ what’s my move?/ Go outsane?
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