bio
I come completely
uncredentialed
(but I’m ready)
without much
if any
critical acclaim.
no honorary degrees.
no accolades.
I’ve no official title
to my name.
No diploma for
advanced education
to hang.
No certificates of
competency
I can claim.
I never made
the cut into
any artists’ school
I sang my songs
but I was never
taught to sing
I sought a proper
apprenticeship
but I couldn’t
follow the rules,
so I traded manual labor
for some used tools,
cobbled up a shop
in a back corner lot,
then I hunkered
down to do
my own thing.
Why then,
should I bother
to apply?
Do I even qualify?
What can I say?
As a craftsman,
I started with a skillsaw
and a beat up pickup,
I knew nothing of
the trade,
and now in three decades
everything I’ve ever made
came first from the
notion of a dream
and then a blind stab
of an effort as if
into darkness
which I reenacted
in my shop, day by day
until I found
a finger hold
firm enough to pull myself
to footing.
My only expertise
has been experimenting.
As a poet,
I have been erratic
and undisciplined.
I have gone years without
a turn of phrase,
yet through the lens of
bitter irony
I have always searched
for silver lining.
The only part of poetry
I’ve mastered
is the existential pining.
Still I’ve yet to write
a completely honest stanza
but I’m trying.
As a musician,
every note I’ve
ever played
was first a song I sang
inside my head
and then plucked out by ear.
It wasn’t music theory
but instead a string of broken
hearts which brought me here.
It wasn’t proper lessons
but instead it’s been
these forty years,
practicing
listening
and always packing
this little blues harp
with me
everywhere.
