Hi friends,
Last month I finally published a poem for the first time. Not considering myself much of a poet, this felt really good. So good that I forgot to write a post about it, apparently.
But here it is in all its glory: a post specifically made to draw your attention to my newest published material. A poem about the AMERICAN DREAM, inspired by reading every stoner’s favorite novel Fear and Loathing. That is when they manage to stop talking about how The Catcher in the Rye is the best book ever written. (This is based off of experience from talking with only one stoner, actually. In high school when he sat next to me on the bus in the mornings right after smoking a bunch of American Spirits.)
Anyway, check it out over at Red Fez: Broken Bottles.
There’s nothing like visiting the grandparents on weekends – especially as a child. My grandparents always made it a point to facilitate my imagination. That’s something I’ll remember the most, I think. The rule that I wasn’t allowed to buy my own books – they always bought them for me. Always bringing me to writing camps where I could write about anything. It’s easy to miss the days in which your world was essentially a poem out of William Blake’s The Songs of Innocence.