biography

Introduction

They say it's best to begin at the beginning. In my case, "The beginning of what?" seems like a good retort. Where do you begin telling the story of a man--yours truly--whose history spans thousands of years? Now that's a legacy.

A story I wrote for my wife back in 1999. A little weird, probably not written very well. You have been warned.

he burned a smile into his arm
she burned a mirror into her mind
and they burned me out of my hole
can't I remember? where did they go?

they said "we're sorry, we have no choice"
keep me silent, drown out my voice
they said no wires, and nothing sharp
just beds and pills and flourescent dark

REFRAIN
you never asked, "how do you feel?"
I never said, "I fear I'm real"
so don't pretend you give a damn
when what you hate is who I am

by the fountain the geese rose up

It was January 6th
when the ice came rolling down
when it came it covered everything
from the treetops to the ground
the transformers, they were flashing
purple, green, and blue
and the people, I watched them scramble
as they wondered what to do

So we drove on down the road
in the stark eerie darkness
the world it seemed had stopped
and the trees, they were a mess
so the cars piled on the street
not knowing where to go
until they saw that store ahead

I had a dream last night
of too many twelve-year-olds
standing at the same cliff
and I was there as one of them
all taunted by the dancing
and screaming chemicals
all daring us to jump

Story of my life
some days I am the lion
most days I am a lemming
waiting to be directed
to my next pointless suicide
to sacrifice myself
for the sake of what I'm told
I need to be

Not that I'm complaining
I'm used to it by now

This is a collection of poetry I've written over the years.

The specks of snow rolled over the hood of my truck as I pulled into the Village Pantry parking lot. Not much of a lot, really, just room for five or six cars parked diagonally in front of the building. The snow itself didn't act much like snow, either--not flakes but meandering globs, too pathetic to be hail, too round and bulky to flutter down like the real thing.

This book is meant to hold stories that are based on my own life and the lives of people I know. The truth may be stretched in some cases, and one or two may be speculative tales centered around my life. Enjoy!