Inaugural Address

First and foremost, welcome to my blog and thank you for reading. I mean that with deepest sincerity.

I've started this first post to my blog countless times; I wanted to make sure it was perfect. A post that would introduce you to me, and also give you a little insight into why I started this blog. What came out of me was a post of epic proportions. It mutated from an introductory blog into an essay on class, status, and ethics. I've decided to actually turn that into an essay, and will post it on here when it is finished. So, in the mean time, let me tell you a little about myself.

I live in a small town in Alabama...Oxford, Alabama to be exact. I'm twenty-two years old, and I'm a literature and music enthusiast. I don't have a favorite band, but I do have a favorite album. Neutral Milk Hotel's In The Aeroplane Over The Sea. There exists not a more beautiful album than that one. I've been told, by more than one person, that I'm a good conversationalist...which, I fear, may mean that I like to talk a lot. I will be going back to school in the spring after taking some years off. I plan to study Journalism/Creative Writing, which basically is a degree that ensures that I will never find work after graduation.

See, it's like we're best friends already.

As to why I started this blog, the concept is simple. I asked myself what I wanted to do with my poetry. The answer is: I want people to read that poetry. I want my readers to be a part of the process. I'll be posting a lot of poems on this blog for you to read because...well, I want you to read them. In my view, you reading the poem on this blog accomplishes the same thing as getting that poem published in a literary journal, just with a little less prestige. That's okay, I've never been one to put much stock in prestige or class or status.



Hemingway's Example

Too many good hours,
years even,
spent sipping wine
on the streets of Paris
with the ghosts
of the lost generation.

And the only thing to show for it
being a broken head
and a fragile body
wondering if I shouldn't follow
Hemingway's example.


It's Too Easy

It's too easy
to lie in bed
and watch the flowers grow.
Watch the roses
become voluptuous women
and the guerilla weeds
staging another coup.
It's too easy
to lie in bed
and feel the world
spinning wildly beneath you.
To look up at the stars
and feel small by comparison.
And, long after the sun rises,
you still feel small.
It's too easy
to lie in bed
and hurt
and regret
and miss somebody.