I grew up in Huntington Beach, CA on a steady diet of swim workouts, shredded beef tacos, and skiing. Both of my parents taught high school, so I thought I should do the same. Not a sustainable career for me. My sister became a professor, and a damn good one. I moved to Seattle, became a Licensed Acupuncturist. Barely paid for itself, even though the ancient grid of Qi still informs my body. Lifeguarded for many years. Found nursing and never regretted it. I now work for the most worthy recipients of respect, our Veterans. I married a superior being and made a brilliant female sprig. They are both the reason and the reward.
I began writing poetry in high school to mostly try to communicate a lack of meaning and a yearning for depth. After college I began frequenting Laguna Poets, and other vital readings in mid-90s Orange County. This few years fed me, taught me. I began publishing in Blue Satellite, Spillway, Inevitable Press. My father passed away during this same time and colored the air with charcoal and opened a light around people. I may have had a spiritual awakening, or I may have slid off the visual plane for a bit. When I moved to Seattle I read in local readings and published in Seattle Review, Crab Creek Review, Poetry Superhighway, Pontoon, Bitter Oleander. I wrote hundreds of poems, some were actually decent. I married, divorced. Met my present and beautiful wife and we moved back to Huntington Beach for a long five years while she became a doctor and I became a nurse.
We returned to Seattle when our daughter was one. We bought a house with a sprawling yard and a view of the Olympics off our deck. I began writing again, publishing in Radius, Cobalt, Chaleur, Moon Tide, Pontoon, Slippery Elm, Cultural Weekly, among others. My chapbook “Book of 24 streets” was a semifinalist in the Floating Bridge contest in 2017. I was a finalist in the Write Bloody Poetry Book Contest in 2019. My collection, The only thing that makes sense is to grow, is now available from Moon Tide Press. My second book, Mr. Rogers kills fruit flies, is now available from Main St. Rag. In 2020, my son was born the same day as my father, just 88 years later. I received a Pushcart nomination from Misfit in November 2020 for the poem “Dispersal.” And I have this silly website, of course.