While working professionally as an editor, I never cease to be an artist. I got my start in editing after realizing many of the fine skills required to cultivate excellence in poetry (the attention to detail, anticipation of audiences wants/needs, constant reworking of language to more effective ends) applied to excellence as an editor.
Everyone has to eat, and unfortunately I didn’t see a firm financial future in poetry. I first learned editing to have a practical profession that would provide for my art; I then fell in love with the profession.
Poetry is still a passion of mine, alongside my artwork in metalworking, blacksmithing, and music.
Poetry
My first poem to ever be published was “Crucible”, featured in the Penwood Review of Newbury, UK. The Penwood Review is a publication that seeks to publish poets who concern themselves with matters of faith, whether you be explicitly religious or not (in my case, not). I am not a person of faith, but I do feel very deeply about subjects of faith and also relate strongly to the imagery and language of faith. I believe religion and faith are wonderful ways of reckoning with existence.
I have since that time both been published again and won recognition in the West Virginia Writers competition. In June of 2015, I won an honorable mention for my poem, “Mob Justice” in the Emerging Poets category of the WV Writer’s competition. In April of 2016, I had two poems, “You Could Never Pass for a Socialite”, and “November”, published in West Virginia University’s undergraduate creative writing journal Calliope.
Here is a small selection of poems, that I believe reflect who I am and my qualities as an emerging writer and poet.
Mob Justice
A blue crane beats sweet air
while pink buds burst on limb tips
to the peeping of frogs
golden flies grow heavy, landing
on steaming piles of manure.
As the sun tucks his feet into the mountains,
in a farm-house beside the laughing creek,
a man screams at his tired wife
(who burnt the black-berry cobbler)
while 11 children look on,
and the oldest of them is rolling up his shirt-sleeves
and the next two daughters have grabbed a broom & a rolling pin,
and they beat him as splotchy, as the purple evening.
You Could Never Pass for a Socialite
Twilight Zone street lamps
new black Vans broken fourth wall
then left at 6th St. the party
will be seated presently
searching myself in bathroom mirrors
Riesling crab dip prime rib
tiramisu more too sweet wine just like grandma made
Blackberry eyes lemon rinds skin
and pick me out of that ditch if
you believe in breaking hearts
I look a bit like Jesus
in that I don’t at all
Sadly the key to humor
is pain
killers tin foil & Marlboro Menthols
Winston Blacks American spirits
and Appalachian traditions
we spent all night drowning
thirst in a cloud of Luna moths
laughing hysterically drunk
throwing our pocket knives
into the decking boards
Carhartt and Ariats
Sky’s Blue Elegance
smoldering stars honeysuckle dependency
white clover alfalfa timothy
too many summer horses and
we don’t see enough of you
around here anymore
it’s retirees and dead end country roads
guilty children don’t forget
what are the name of the restaurants?
they stay out too late and sometimes
why are you dressing differently?
excuse themselves from acting decently
who’s that girl we don’t get to meet?
as if there was no one watching them
wring their wrists and hide their future
will you please take care of yourself
Kiss Me
From here, she looks calm & cool
inviting me to shed my khakis
and slip out of my beaten leather shoes
to swim in hot June,
or at very least to dip my toes.
But I know, under the surface
she is angry & filthy.
she would eat men for what they have done,
for filling her with poison.
for whipping her into compliance.
Here she only murmurs when boats pass,
quiet under the Capitol shore as if
trying to avoid their notice,
or at least their ire.
Upstream where they are
too poor now to know industry,
she roils in obscurity.
she is made of many times many
streams, and West Virginians who know truth
know of hers and her sisters’ rape,
and they love her.
They would never dream
of dirtying her with their greed—
Kiss me Kanawha: wash over me
Propagation
Open wide and needy flowers they spread
to their neighbors and even miles they cross
spores and pollen pistols stamens in beds
peach trees up-breeze never feel any loss
wind will inevitably pollinate
deep clefts under curves in petals hungry
casually-golden daffodils gaze
their hearts pantries for those making honey
step out into the springtime revelry
smell the heat and sweat and damp dirty mass
organic plant-matter sunrise orgy
cycles of warmer weather sex and chaff
Lucky for those of us born in Autumn
people act just like the vegetation.
Blacksmithing and Metalwork
I have always thoroughly enjoyed working with my hands, and have been a lifelong mechanic and enthusiast of that work (I learned at a young age to turn a wrench helping my dad restore a 1969 GTO). I feel that mechanic work morphed easily into a desire to learn blacksmithing and metalworking at large.
Blacksmithing has much in common with the other sculptural arts. You are giving life and form to an idea that previously existed only in imagination. I became seriously interested in blacksmithing after an inspiring visit to the studio of West Virginian and world-renowned blacksmith, Jeff Fetty. He recommended I seek out courses in blacksmithing at West Virginia University and during the summer of 2016, I had the pleasure of taking the Creative Arts Centers Blacksmithing course under sculpture professor Dylan Collins.
In the blacksmithing course I created a lamp, decorative snake wall hangers, and some nifty little skulls.
I also recently assisted Dylan in the creation of the Eastern Pylons Project
Hiphop
While not a conventional or classic art (and one I think is in desperate need of respect by the arts establishment), I am also an avid hiphop fan. I have worked as a radio dj at U92 College Radio at West Virginia University, and have been a dj on the hiphop show (Urban Diner) staff for three years. I attempt to bring to my hiphop all of the passion and drive I put into my poetry. I seek to make thought compelling and emotion driven work that expresses who I am and what I care about, while still simply being good music.