In the underground urban landscape each of us finds ourselves in these uncertain days, bleakness, loneliness, and cavities of the soul are most prevalent.
We feel like cages and boxes, steel and cardboard. We act like cobras and rats. Not because we want to, but because we think we have no choice.
In the red-streak alarm America of today, sidewalks and street corners are the most potent and pregnant reminders of that emptiness.
We forget what, where, and how we traversed and what each space looks like because we are taught from grade school to concentrate on the important matters in our lives.
But how can you tell what is significant if you cannot comprehend what is not?
How can existence flourish if one does not extend the same feelings and sensitivity to the darker and more ambivalent entities as to those lighter, more meaningful and clear?
In the end, sidewalks and street corners are part of our daily lives. If they do anything, these poems capture the spirit of that cement, mortar, brick, and asphalt to offer a collection rich in voice and virtue and loud in ambiance and indigo.
It is the dust, rust, dirt, and density of sidewalks and street corners that we often forget.
This poetry, this very verse, then, is a sign of those staunch road blocks and hurdles in our everyday lives.
But most importantly, it is also an answer or solution as to how to overcome or clear the very mental obstacles that are preventing us from achieving all that we can while waking to the brightest sun and falling asleep to the mildest moon.
