I’ve taken a moment to look at this website. An archive of passed time, of used-tos and remember whens.
I’ve been reading my bad poetry! It’s so sincere. I can still see the places where I didn’t understand symbolism or metaphor quite clearly enough to make it work. But I wrote it nonetheless. I’m either impatient and careless or brave.
I have an “official” website now. A place where I think aloud solely about writings, a place to direct potential readers, editors, seekers to my work and contact information. But this – My Ecdysis – feels like home. It will always feel like home. It’s been over a decade that I’ve been online now. A decade.
So please don’t hold me to my bad poetry.