This is not a poem, simply an explanation. I realise if you have read these poems you will have quickly realised I don’t tend to write about happy things. I would like too, and I have a few failed examples in my collection, but the truth is I find pain and darkness are the things I need to speak of. In meeting, living with, or considering those things, words begin to form together.
For me it has become strangely redemptive to try and offer quite difficult experiences, places, and stories, in words that I hope speak honestly with beauty. There is much that I have not yet put up here. Poems that speak of dying, Alzheimer’s, depression, situations of domestic abuse, so much more, and I will continue to bring them to this place, slowly, as the time is right.
For those who read and find a story here that makes sense, I am grateful.