Anthony J Alexandre

A year ago today, I would not have imagined that I would be writing to the readers of a book that I had authored . 2020 being what it has been, gave no indication that this would be a thing. Surprise seems to be the nature of poetry as far as it concerns me. For years I had felt the push and pull of poetry, towards a kind of freedom within me. I began to write at 12 years of age, and stopped abruptly at the age 19. I had experienced the end of consistent writing for 15 years outwardly, while the urge to write continued to surge within me. I do not fully know for sure, why I was unable to let the writing out. It may have been that I was afraid of the honesty that writing demanded. The fear of what others would think proved to be a halting mechanism, and a strong impediment to the art of writing. Through the undying encouragement of my friend and fellow poet Rudolph Thurman Jr., I began to take hesitant steps towards writing again, until the instinct within me revived. To this day, I honestly do not feel that I truly understand where poetry intends to take me. I do not know what it plans to take out of me. Writing feels as sporadic as a thunderstorm. I do know however, that I have loved and will love its obsession with disclosure.