West Poetry



According to T.S. Eliot, when it comes to poets, Dante and Shakespeare divide the world between them. “There is no third.” I aim, in short, to be the third. But my aspirations are not entirely poetic and, at present, I imagine novels will precede the epic in publication.

In brief, I have only just begun. What’s more, I do not intend to publish present work though I may privish it; by which I mean it will be made available to you, beloved, if not to the public.

Three works (Among the Fog, Four Scores, and The Cowtown Oracle) are available here; though I must remind you that these are poems intended for the ear rather than the eye.

I must presume, owing to the fact that you have arrived at this obscure digital letter, that we know each other personally and will therefore presume to ask, as a friend, that you only purchase a print for the sake of reading aloud if you must read them at all. Better by far that you simply ask me to, as they say, do a reading. By which they mean a speaking. I would gladly assume that role if asked, assuming you have my number, which I presume you do.