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Here Is A Place To Dream~To Return To A Forgotten Time~Perhaps A Distant Memory Of Cobbled Streets~And Mysterious Winds...
 I hear my peers complain because my poetry is simple and plain. I’ve even heard them say that what I write would never see fame. You know none of that bothers me, not in the lease bit. People buy what I put in the bookstore every bit of it.    
I don’t write with sophistication only simple equation. Fellow writers write with the style of a good education.
I get my vocabulary from dark allies of the bowery and the shadows of the streets and lonesome galleries    
I don’t write to please the masters of poetic persuasion.
My writings are on the bathroom walls at the train station. My poetry comes from toil, sweat, beauty and devotions. I write to escape logic, and express my true emotions    
If you like what I write it will most certainly please me. If you think what I write is beneath you don’t appease me Most of all I write just because I love to write and please all of my readers with all my might.