I hesitate to call myself a poet, although I do write poetry, it seems too lofty a title for what I do. My writing is deeply personal, confessional, and can be harrowing to create and publish. I often write of complex and overwhelming emotional distress, addiction, loss, and grief. Everything I write has meaning to me, but I hope you bring your own meaning as you read. I think that is more important seeking to analyse what I am saying about me.
Poetry, for me, is an expression of the complexity of the human experience, with all its beauty and all its ugly harshness. I’m not one to write of the glories of nature, or the dance of light on a misty morning. Because that is not the life I behold. Mine is an inner life expressed with these poor words, rather than one that reflects the externalities of existence.
I want to thank you for reading, liking, following. I do invite comments and critiques, and I am interested in the idea of collaboration with others. Again, my thanks, I have always doubted my own abilities as a writer and poet, and each time something is read and enjoyed I gain some small but growing confidence.