
I don’t want to be pigeonholed. I don’t want the only reason why you’d read my work to be an interest in Florida. James Joyce always wrote about Dublin, but you wouldn’t just call him a Dublin writer.

Jeff VanderMeer tosses animals into the crowd and reads from his novel, Borne.

Hialeah skies have never seen a pigeon as handsome as you, Maceo. Rare is the hen who could ignore your splendor once your flight path has crossed hers.

Amy Green reads from her forthcoming nonfiction book about the Everglades, Moving Water.

I’d do what amounted to weird little Florida meditations, watching lizards stalk butterflies on my screen door or noticing the shifting coloration of the Spanish moss…