I began writing in sixth grade. In fact my first output was a set of haiku as a part of a class assignment. For better or worse, I was hooked. Until recent years I continued to write, sometimes sporadically, other times prolifically. In either case, poetry was, at one point, the safest form of expression available.

Over the years I was fortunate in that a number of people, both familial and not, came into my life who took an interest in my writing & encouraged its' growth. Sometimes gently. Sometimes forcefully, perhaps even brutally; but never negatively. From a contemplative standpoint, I find it fascinating to see an individual's compositions over a span of time. We see how that which was once crucial to survival, becomes forgotten as time passes.

And then there is language. Just as the spoken word of a society evolves on a daily basis, so does the written. While I find it distressing at times, I am blown away by the difference between things I wrote twenty years ago, and things I wrote three years ago.

Consider then that this section is presented as a public investigation of one man's private existence.