I live in the Bronx, NY. I was born and raised on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, mostly in Ocean City, a summer resort.
Do you recall how your interest in writing originated?
During my adolescence I attempted to express myself, what I was feeling and the way I saw the world. To me no one else saw or felt what I did. I was mostly trying to understand my mother’s death. I remember riding to the cemetery after the funeral service and seeing other children playing, joyful and carefree, while I was so isolated and alone. I couldn’t turn to my father; he was too cold and distant. But the written word offered solace.
Why do you write?
So that other can see what I see.
What is your favorite genre or style to write in?:
Screenplays. But I’m falling in love with the novel form.
Who is your favorite author and what is it that really strikes you about their work?
Just one? Never happen!
Pete Hamill for modern fiction. Dashiell Hammett and Ross MacDonald for crime noir. Isaac Asimov, Larry Niven and Arthur C Clark for science fiction. What strikes me about all of these writers is their clear vision of a world beyond the everyday and their ability to describe it and make it live.
What books have most influenced your life most?
Tim O”Brien’s The Things They Carried. It makes me weep just to think of it.
Do you have a favorite quote or piece of advice that you would like to share with us?:
“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming “Wow! What a Ride!” – Hunter S. Thompson
Do you have any advice for other writers?
Yes, it’s that simple. Don’t ever say “I wanna be a writer.” Just write and you are a writer.
Can you tell us a little background or anything special on the piece you composed?
This was written as a May – November relationship was deteriorating.
A Trilogy of Poems for Her
This heart does not know time.
It knows love
It can hope. It can wait.
This heart is willing to break
As that meant there was another
That cared, that loved.
Even if that other withdrew,
Left, abandoned, hurt.
Days are instants, but
Days can be forever too.
Months mean little.
Years are meaningless.
This heart knows not rules
No law or convention.
It doesn’t care what people say
This heart know not time.
Sadly she felt their difference in years
And he suffered for it, for he cared deeply.
Their times together were bitter-sweet
Fraught with tension, laced with passion,
They found refuge in the sensual and more.
Her sensibilities as she clung to her rules,
For she couldn’t see things any other way,
Tore at their bond, though they danced close,
So close that passion raced, ragged and raw,
Through her breast, causing her heart to rage.
He could only wait out her struggle, their plight
Drawing from her only her very her best
And when she relented, they lay together
The stars clashed and thunder rolled.
And on some cosmic level they loved forever.
A Farwell – But Not So Sad
I knew this day was coming
It was written in the sand,
A most impermanent medium.
You are a fine woman,
One not to be denied
And to you I never lied.
You have your charms.
You have a way about you
That is not to be denied,
A style, a grace personified.
Despite the anger of the moment,
The fury of the tale as told.
It must be said that there was love,
Passion untold and sex unleashed
That would rival other lovers
Star crossed and damned forever.
You have a beauty driven by your past
Stirred by your pain, stamped by sins
Both committed and ordained.
I forgive you and of you I hope the same.
Do not judge me harshly
I sought the forbidden and was denied
Only your love!
I held your heart
Drove deep into your wetness
As if it were all the world could hold
And it was all in the end I asked.
And in your kindness and your love
You laid with me in darkness
And in love once again.
For these small kindnesses I thank you
And ask for forgive once again.