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If this entire website is a digital garden (in the spirit of Mike Caufield) these projects are the rotten fruits, the composting remains which feed my artistic practice. My poems also live here. They are the weeds: the things that grow without intent or order, sometimes messy and sometimes beautiful. Have a dig around. 

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A one-act play involving physics, Thoreau, and Freud. 

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Exploring herbicide-degradation rates with data sonification.

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Some thoughts that are decidedly not prose.

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