In spite of Al Gore's statements to the contrary, I am actually the person who invented the internet. O.k. truth be known,
one could more accurately state that the internet invented me--not as a person, of course, but as a poet. For it is this very
same cursed technology that I shunned and avoided throughout the eighties and nineties (considering it evil, dehumanizing,
and a threat to traditional means of sharing information such as books) that has now given my work a broad platform never
previously even conceivable through traditional forms of publishing. Another way of putting it is that I have been a real
dumb ass for the last twenty years.
Now that I have "smartened-up," how do I describe my life on a webpage (and who
gives a rat's ass anyway)? Of course, the answer is I can't (and I suppose a cat giving chase would have a unique and interested
perspective on the topic of rats' asses). Obviously I am stalling here; as this is a subject that is most difficult (and least
interesting) about which to write for me.
I have always preferred to let my poems speak for themselves and stand on
their own two stanzas, rather than cloak them in the autobiographical aura of their flawed perpetrator. Since "enquiring minds
want to know," however, I will do my best to share a small bit of myself on this site. Don't get too excited now (not that
you would)and think I'm going to reveal some big secret like all of my poems are really about me and my own experiences. You'll
never catch me that easily; for I will never reveal just how much of me is where and how much is just "random third-party
inspiration". For the benefit of my many devoted followers, though (two guys in Indiana who huff freon then toss cow chips
before reading my work), here's a little bio:
I started writing poetry about age seven, with my very first effort
(entitled "The Baby Jesus") actually published in the local newspaper (apparently they were extremely hard-up for filler in
the "feel-good" section). My first serious efforts began about age eighteen and were very experimental (and very poor). By
twenty-one I had begun to find my own voice and style heavily influenced by great poets I admired such as Blake, Yeats, Poe,
Frost, Keats, Wordsworth and Dickinson.
Though I was published early in many "literary journals"
reads), I found quite a bit of resistance from most publishers who were seeking more "modern" verse. In other words, there
was (and still is) a greater demand for the works of poets who know nothing about rhyme scheme, meter, rhythm, stanzas, structure,
melody, pneumonic devices and the works of previous poets who verbalized and immortalized the greatest thoughts of their respective
Public reading opportunities were not much better. These "open mic' or "slam" events consisted (and still
do) mainly of very impassioned (or stoned) youth full of unbridled anti-social angst, bleating (yes, as a goat bleats) some
free-form version of the "My life is a pile of s**t" poem. While this certainly is a valid form of self-centered expression
(continuing the beatnik poetry traditions of the "50's and 60's), to me it is not great poetry. Needless to say, I did not
do too many of these such readings.
In spite of my cynicism and lack of potential venues for my poems, however, I
continued to write. Driven by some ego-maniacal, delusionary vision that I had something important to contribute to the world,
I piled up hundreds of my unseen little masterpieces, certain that upon discovery of my old wrinkled corpse, the people who
cleaned out my drawers (who would also happen to be respected literary critics and publishers) would gasp in awe at their
amazing discovery and present me posthumously to a waiting world!
What changed this dreadful prognosis? The internet,
of course. The irony that technology might be the only way to preserve, enhance, and proliferate a traditional artform is
indeed overwhelming--true poetic justice, if you will. Thus, here you are reading this bio. Therefore I suppose I should close
with some actual biographical statistics.
I live and work in Atlanta, Ga. where I write and record songs (fairly well)
and sing (fairly poorly) as the least-talented half of a duo called "Confederate Poets". For fun and exercise I suit-up in
full armor and allow guys half my age and twice my size to whack me with wooden poles (This is not a sexual thing, it is called
SCA combat). And oh yes, for money, I sell houses once in a while.
I hope that someone out there may find some of
this information interesting. But most of all, I hope that somehow my poems may touch you in a way that makes you think a
little harder, feel a little deeper, or discover the unique and magnificent purpose God has instilled in you, even before
the foundation of this great universe.
To view my live journal entries, click here...