Here I’ll list a few examples of pieces I’ve had published throughout the years, and where they first appeared. It’s difficult to sell a product without a face, and, in my case, words are even more difficult. You have to CREATE that face. It’s you, and it isn’t. You’re giving yourself away, but on your terms. On your fingers, handing it to the masses.

Click captions below to read:

Other Print Publications:

- “Cupid” – [Another poem from The Poets Place: A Collection of Works - Note: My twenties. What a time. One mistake after the other. One arrow between every rib. The fact I haven't bled to death is testament to my knack for stitching up after each one. Because, of course, they're all mine to keep for my own quiver to kill another, one day.]

- Mon Poète Maudit, Mon Oiseau du Feu (“My Cursed Poet, My Bird of Fire”) – [Another poem from The Poet's Place: A Collection of Works - Note: This poem was meant to be an opus of sorts, but in my heart of hearts I know I missed the mark. Badly. The poem isn't even that good. In truth, I was trying too hard. Regardless Justin decided to pick it up and publish it, and so here it is. I wrote it after I'd decided to drive from Tulsa to Myrtle Beach on a whim with some friends. I was in complete turmoil; I had no money and yet somehow kept both cigarettes and Angel perfume on my person at all times. I don't remember much, as my life was full of holes, love, obsessions, drugs, confusion. I'd lost a lot of weight, mostly because I'd been living for months on cottage cheese and On The Border's chips and salsa down in Corpus Christi. I cut my own, long red hair into an inch-long, scalp-baring mess, dyed it black and made leg warmers out of an old Smashing Pumpkins t-shirt. I'd never wanted to visit the Carolinas before, but at the time I just didn't know what else to do. Kill Hannah were playing and I hadn't seen the guys for awhile. Somehow it all made sense. I remember I gave Mat [Devine, to whom the poem is dedicated] a medical dictionary from the 1940′s and a copy of T. S. Eliot’s “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.” We looked “homosexuality” up in the dictionary, where it was described as an “abomination” and I remember laughing. The venue where we stood has since burned down. I watched a storm roll in on Myrtle Beach and was content to sleep on the sand and let the ocean take me away. I just…didn’t care.]

Online Publications:

 Troubadour 21 – Online Series “My Brother Billy”

- “Living Under Glass – Part I”

- “The Inquisition – Part II”

- “The Invention of Hopeless Beach – Part III”

- “Exhibitionism on Hopeless Beach – Part IV”

- “The Introduction of Rose – Part V”

- “Nathaniel’s Exit – Part VI”

- “The Last Mention of Nathaniel – Part VII”

- “Two Worlds Collide – Part VIII” | [Mislabeled as "Part IX"]

- “Checkmate – Part IX” | [Mislabeled as "Part X"]

- “No Visible Marks – Part X” | [Mislabeled as "Part XI"]

- “Don’t Forget To Stay Together – Part XI” | [The last chapter in the series.]

 Other Troubadour 21 Online Publications:

- “What They Don’t Know Won’t Hurt Them” | [Poem. Note: inspired by one of the many booths at this small bar full of Chicago memorabilia. When I was in the depths of my alcoholism, a boy came over and sat with me in one of these booths. He wasn't particularly cute, or even my dirty, skinny type, but all I could think about was how I was positive I could hear the slip of his belt coming open over the Primus playing on the jukebox, or the mandolin player plucking away on the tiny stage.]

- “A Half-Cup of Coffee” | [Poem. Note: Inspired by a man I know who is always busy because of touring. But makes dates anyway when he can, so we can catch up. We don't get to see each other often, and try as he might, no matter the date, he is always late. I feel we never spend enough time together on these "dates." The symbolism of a half-cup of coffee, with the liquid still steaming in the cup when we have to leave, saddens me. It isn't his fault. But regardless, the feeling remains.]

Published Photography on Troubadour 21:

-Troubadour 21, “Lord Henry Hits Rock Bottom” [Photo. Note: Taken Dallas, 2007. Subject, Mat Devine of Kill Hannah, then known as "Lord Henry." If you don't get the reference, hint: Google "The Portrait of Dorian Gray."]

 Other Online Publications:

- [The] A Blog of Words: Two by Julie M. Tate – “The White City” and “He’s a Drummer by Trade” [Poems. Note: "He's a Drummer by Trade" was inspired by, obviously, a drummer I know. His hands could be their own side by side states. "The White City" was inspired by the first time I'd ever visited Navy Pier in Chicago. By now, having been back so many times, it contains actual parts of me.]

- The Commonline Journal: “The Last Dance” [Poem. Note: I sat in Seattle with the then-editor of Commonline Ananda Osel in a bar I didn't know. I drank girly drinks to stay right-side-up. He looked at me with a strange mix of emotions, and we both told our sides of our literary story, and what we wanted out of them. They were polar opposites, and even then he told me he thought he'd give up Commonline. His poetry is wonderful, and when I showed him some of mine he said this poem needed read. I wrote it years ago, in 2007, about a man I was having a tryst with, even though I was in another relationship. I was watching my current relationship slowly fade away, while trying hard to stay a very, very good girl, as the poem implies.]