Change your life for the better by embracing personal privacy — I’m about to change your life. I’m not joking. This will be the best advice you’ve ever received. All you have to do is listen to me. Listen and take action. Trust me. Build a time machine. Go back and invest in Bitcoin… Just kidding. I want you to delete…

Canon Fodder is now available — Dear Medium readers, I’d like to announce that my new poetry collection, Canon Fodder: Poems Inspired by Classic Literature, is now available for purchase on Amazon in hardcover and paperback. To say I am proud of this work would be a grievous understatement. These poems, and one piece of short…

And how you can too with your writing — Making money on Medium is easy. It’s so easy in fact, everyone is doing it. How do I know everyone is doing it? Because every time I log into Medium I am told about it by a multitude of articles bragging about how easy it is to do. I’m told…

The writer your mother warned you about — Hello, fellow Medium addicts. My name is Jay Sizemore. You may recognize me from such films as “The Poet With Borderline Personality Disorder” or “How to Alienate an Entire Genre of Writers in Five Easy Moves.” I actually have an undiagnosed case of mild Tourette’s Syndrome, which I believe was…

A poem — The Cotton Tree in Sierra Leone When a tree has stood for four hundred years it is no longer a tree. When a tree has stood for four hundred years, it is a landmark. It is a legacy, a living piece of history, witnessed and preserved. …

Poetry —

Poetry — Bookmark With this ring I remember thee. Every passing day, I find you wrapped in this thin silver band, on my dominant hand, when I least expect the memory. It’s funny how loneliness works like a tongue against an achey tooth or a canker sore on the gum, reminding you of its presence just…

poetry — Big Bang ~after Don DeLillo There is a world within the world within the world, beneath the world, myriad microcosms lie in wait like rows of hidden teeth in the shark mouth of the void, down to the subatomic, down to the infinitesimal and undiscovered a universe lives unobserved and unnamed, building the…

A poem — When National Poetry Month Ends I stop turning myself into a whirligig, a man spinning inside a man made of pinwheels and wind. So much art, so many words, it can’t even be given away. Instead, it rests like the fallen tree, waiting for some disheveled hiker to wonder at the…