By: Devin McKinney

As interested in the possible as he was in the proven.

By: Devin McKinney

“Where you keep them motherfuckin broom?”

By: Devin McKinney

Deliverance from chaos and meaningless is their obsession.

By: Devin McKinney

The individual’s mastication in the teeth of the modern state.

By: Devin McKinney

Harris is the Jack Lemmon of now.

By: Devin McKinney

Hannibal Lecter purely represents a set of American angers and anxieties.

By: Devin McKinney

He invented a sound and lost his mind.

By: Devin McKinney

Trills, swoops, jungle calls, and deviations from the straight line.

By: Devin McKinney

If he can make a comeback, maybe the human race can too.

By: Devin McKinney

She opened every lock in your personal house of love.

By: Devin McKinney

For him jazz was never simply music, it was life.

By: Devin McKinney

She was the elusive study of vastly differing auteurs.

By: Devin McKinney

He wrote of wandering minds and dark surmise.

By: Devin McKinney

Rock’n’roll and soul infused with humor, gravity, and sex.

By: Devin McKinney

In his poetry, Nature is eerily alive, a conspiracy of omens.