A few months back, I drafted the final season of my quartet, Season's Song. Almost simultaneously, I rioted out an inspired piece based upon my family drama; told in three parts and three voices, the song includes my grandfather's perspectives on life, his wife, her death, and the marriage of his daughter (my mother.) It also includes a second part in my own voice, describing scenes from childhood in relation to my heritage. The third voice is more elusive; the voice of an oracle.
The Cowtown Oracle is something of an address towards the community I grew up in: politically conservative, professing a relationship with Christ, rich and white, but with problems of its own. The aesthetic longing of my peers was for a rugged individualism, an "everything I am I earned" mindset reminiscent of the common ranch laborer, yet disassociated from the labor of a true working class. In many ways my off-color grandfather represents much of the Texan identity, but (sparing any spoilers) the drama that played out upon my early life made me resent much of what my community endeared.
The song is therefore a challenge in many ways for its audience; asking urban Texans, specifically from Cowtown, to consider the heart of their aesthetic ideals in light of the impact their identity might have on the "other." As most poets, I am an insider outsider among my own people and am agitated by the language that is surfacing amidst current political and religious discource.
That said, I am not a pluralist and do respect much of the real, country identity that is deep in the small town history of our lands. If, however, you identify as such while living in a metropolex with the millions (as most Texans do,) I ask you to really consider your identity in context of our time. I hope I'm raising the question of "what does it mean to be a white, fifth or sixth generation Texan and what aspects of that heritage should be soundly rejected?"
So what does this mean for my work? I have so far completed three long narrative poems (Among the Fog, Season's Song, and The Cowtown Oracle) along with two unpublished collections of poems (Sinister Man and Fire-Tongue). This does not account for numerous destroyed poems of dubious worth and certain heresy or the poems readily available on my blog. Moving forward, I am ready to begin a decade-long work I have envisioned (a Tragedy) with several projects concurrent, including a complete translation of the Psalms. I may or may not print my work for sale or as gifts in the future (subscribe to hear about any releases.) Similarly, right now recieving publication in the poetry industry catalogues is something I couldn't care less about and so I am not submitting my work for publication regularly. I hope you understand that I am very much still a private poet; one who would appreciate your conversation if my work intrigues you. Don't be a stranger. Ask and you shall recieve.