I am a poet – born of fire and hatred – my world not fluttered with flower, filigree and faithful naivety but instead from affections and afflictions of hearts loved and lost, I found words my comfort and rhyme my resourceful foundation.
I am a poet – born of quicksand and waste – my world not cluttered with smooth, solid, or soluble sainthood but instead secured with impromptus and fill in the blanks of souls built and asunder’d, I found words my truth and meter my unbreakable bond.
I. am. a. poet.
I am a poet – born of hurricane and anguish – my world not covered with blanket, barrier and barren courage but instead by withstand and tenacity of wills hammered and hewn, I found words my armor and tempo my double edged sward.
I am a poet – born of tsunami and fear – my world not worn with newness, name-brand, and never used possibilities but instead from bought-back and additions of hands calloused and bruised, I found words my conviction and rhyme my faithful companion.