Once upon a time, when I was a naive college freshman and declared my intent to be an English major, a dear friend leaned in and said this:

“Here’s the one phrase that will get you through the entirety of your career: ‘do you want fries with that?'”

/eyeroll.

So after that, it would only be natural that I would strive to prove him wrong. 😉

It IS the worst kind of one man band to be a writer, especially one whose first inclination is poetry. The world sometimes morphs into the gel of a petri dish and looks so solid and unmovable, able to be studied only under magnification – and then you see the atoms bouncing off each other erratically and at such a high frequency that they appear stable. I’ll let the scientists determine why – I want to pick through it and explain its beauty, tragedy, passion and love. Like most writers, the words are only for me and, when unleashed upon the world, become what the world makes of it.