As my poem “Fault Lines” reveals, I was born at the sandy edge of the Southern Oregon coast. It was the beginning of January and winter storms heaved forests of Bull Kelp onto the beach, while Grays migrated south from the icy Bearing Sea to warm lagoons in Baja.
I believe my love for the coastal landscape of the Pacific Northwest began with my first breath of sea air. From childhood, I felt this landscape was a kindred spirit, and its hold on me only deepened with each move my family made along its coastal edges. Places like Bandon, Port Orford, Charleston, Garibaldi, Florence, Anacortes, Port Townsend, Burrows Island and Port Ludlow.
As a child I wandered beaches alone, rode my horse up old logging roads, hung my head over marina docks, crossed the bar at Coos Bay, dug for clams with small bare hands, built forts from driftwood, sucked the sweet meat from a Dungeness crab claw, ate Salmonberries, fished for bluegills, climbed sand dunes, went to sleep to the sound of a lighthouse fog horn and with each slow accrual, found my “place.”
I believe it was in these places, that the poet in me was born. It was in these places that I began to write. It was in these places that I finally understood my narrative.
These days I write from Portland, Oregon, a place just as rich to me as those coastal towns I grew up in. A city filled with the histories of my own family, I am just beginning to discover.
Feel free to keep in touch. I would love to hear from you.
Yours in poetry,