Poet Introduction I say that I write for myself, but I am also realizing my poems want to be shared. Only recently started to think of myself as a writer. Frequently write trying to find some resolution to all the things inside of me.
In the cave of the ear, the bones, like stars at the solstice, sit upright and still, listening in on the air as the muscle and blood listen in on the skeleton. —Robert Bringhurst, "The Song of Ptahhotep," Gift of Tongues
This body which is mine written June 1st, 2021
For too long my body has listened for phantom danger coming my way my body tensed waiting.
Now I am training myself to listen to the sound of my solid solitary bones the soft drumming of my blood rushing and cresting in the shores...
always a child never a child without a face suspended in this twilight no-where and in no-time floating in air my faith is the tight grasp keeping you from falling into the abyss where children are crushed like fallen fruit— or am I keeping you from falling into grace?
I write deception fabricating fictions layer after layer of perverse prevarications surrounding my subject with inventions and evasions so that the truth can be revealed in the serpentine curves of these words.