I am a poet. Even I laugh at that sometimes, but even I can’t seem to escape it. So I go with it. I have no idea if poetry is a cause, a cure, a way to worship, a prayer, a longing, or a solution. I just find myself thinking constantly about the mundane and shaping it into something beautiful, or at least what I consider beautiful. I am owning up to my lot in life as a writer. Why not?
Take from my poems what you want. And if you don’t find anything beautiful about them, leave them tucked away here. Maybe someone else will find in them exactly what they were looking for.
