n k henry

n k henry doesn’t always beard, but when he does, its all —he rolled in off the mountain but only because he’s ran out of coffee (or books or beats)— ok? He/ him with a sharpie, and this is bad news for your clean surfaces, he’s looking at you, Arborite. Nominated for a 2018 Pushcart Prize for his short fiction, Raw Deluxe. His work routinely intersects myth and mud. Father of two.