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I was abducted by a feral band of Latvian hookers when I was a year and a half into my first Mormon mission spreading the good word. This was a real game changer. I’ve been writing poetry ever since. After a couple million coffee houses, a few hair bands on The Strip, and a life of abject debauchery I ended up with a wrinkled brown paper bag of songs, poems and stories, some of which even I like.

"Hypnotic guitar meets wrong side of the tracks storytelling, leading us down a dark alley of spokenword intrigue. (…) Jagged harmonicas tear in. Jim Priest is not to be missed.""
For fans of: Tom Waits, Loudoun Wainwright III, Sage Francis.
– Shannon Duvall, from “Before I Die”, YouBloom Festival




We first met at Wilcox and Yucca. It was a sunny afternoon in a neighborhood impervious to the sun. Maybe met is misleading. It wasn't like a mutual friend introduced us over vodka gimlets while Bobby Short serenaded us from the Cole Porter songbook. It was more like I kicked him.


Sherman & Sepulveda

The roaches on the south wall, fortified by the remnants of a Burrito Supreme,
form a phalanx and advance menacingly
on the roaches of the east wall



Summoned thus his supplicants crawl westward
with hearts of scar
and heads of solid bone
Eager to be cruelly crushed beneath his mighty smirk



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