The Bus at Night [Poem]

The​​ ​​stench​​ ​​of​​ ​​old​​ ​​cigarettes​​ ​​follows​​ ​​him​​ ​​to​​ ​​his​​ ​​seat where hangs his head to avoid the stare...


Finding the Craft of Writing [Q&A]

See, I didn’t grow up reading. Books, words, punctuation; no thank you. English was my least favorite subject, Language Arts nothing short of a torture session. All through grade school, junior high, and high school, English annoyed me. I am a man of math and science (still am). Numbers, equations, variables and graphs, calculus . . . I loved it all. By my Senior year, I was taking Physics, AP Chemistry, and had already completed AP Calculus. I also had only read three books: Of Mice and Men, Catcher in the Rye, and The Things They Carried. As a man and an English major, I can with pride say that I loathed Of Mice and Men and Catcher in the Rye.

Between Writing and Poetry [Q&A]

When I was five or six, my best friend’s mother asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up; I answered, without thinking, “a writer.” There is some deep compulsion in me to write, some need that exceeds all practical considerations (about money, for instance, or talent). Freud says that every dream has its navel: a point beyond which interpretation simply cannot pass. This compulsion is the navel of my life: something so fundamental that I can’t think through it.