The Little Red House

Dear Reader,

If you can clearly explain what a poet is, please feel free to enlighten me. I contend that no one knows what such a strange beast really is. I know what it means to write something that looks like a poem. I am, however, incapable of referring to myself as a poet in the same manner, as I do not claim to know any truth. I can only claim to be looking for truth. The contents of this book are attempts at reaching some sort of more intense form of a language that is not even mine. I imagine that most people who read these pages will wonder what I am talking about. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, I cannot help anyone in their quest for meaning. No key, no code, no cypher, no method will help anyone ascertain meaning. But if one sentence gives you pause, if you find one word even remotely intriguing for what it sounds like or says, maybe, then my task here is done. I can go no further.