Something of a tattoo remains
an outlaw initiation. Your rose
is no rose crossing distress.
My snookums peruses my journal
pages more often than I do
no matter how intently
I set them off-limits.
Despite her lovely torso, she dreads
thighs that may fatten. Ignores
robust-legged lithographs incarnating
Sometimes enormous limbs
thrust contemptuous dancers
into my embrace. Other times,
beyond any grasping. More often,
I wobble as if drinking deep into night.
Still, I wonder why she refuses to see
where shes inked herself on my parts.
Born in Dayton, Ohio, and a graduate of Indiana University, I continue in the tradition of spiritual renaming, which may be seen in both Biblical and Native-American examples. In my case, the name Jnana (commonly pronounced Ja-NAN-a, Sanskrit for the path of intellect or discernment) was bestowed when I dwelled in a Yoga ashram in eastern Pennsylvania.
As a professional journalist, Ive also resided in Upstate New York, in two additional quarters of Ohio, in desert-expanse orchards of Washington State, in the Mississippi River ribbon of eastern Iowa, in the harbor city of Baltimore, and finally in former textile-mill towns of New Hampshire.
All along, my writing has grown out of spiritual exploration. Often, seeking the unique cadence of each place Ive dwelled. At other times, delving headlong into confrontations and paradoxes that entangle present-day romance, sexual attraction, and intimacy. Not infrequently, as mythology has long demonstrated, landscapes and loving overlap.
Experimentation - a desire to discover, by trial and error, structures and language to synthesize the details I employ - is a central concern in much of my poetry.