This blog, a host of other blogs, forums, message boards, internet sites where I post and my website that has been on the internet for the last six years, 2001-2008—are each and all part of a tapestry of poetry and prose that I have created across the internet. This literary creation by this self-employed individual, this retired teacher and lecturer who is now 64, attempts to endow various themes and a wide range of social science and humanities subjects with many layers of meaning. In these six years on the internet I have evoked a complex range of responses in readers who come upon my work, responses which range from lavish enthusiasm to utter indifference and quite intense criticism.

One day, Ishmael came upon three telephone poles.
They stood along the railroad tracks in line with countless others that ran away into the distance as far as the eye could see.
Ishmael had taken little notice of them as he had traveled on. They had been part of the landscape, rising like crucified trees, bent and splintered, some leaning crazily to one side or the other, black with tar, oil, and smoke, scarred by the wind, sun. rain, and ice, some strung with useless rusting wire, some not, some with cross beams, some without. They rose in the midst of the winterdead weeds that stabbed into the air like spears.