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.