Ashton Thayne

Ashton Thayne Bindrup spent his early childhood learning how to write on a brick laptop handed down father to son since the stone age. It's fan hummed so loudly it would eventually vibrate from table to floor. Inevitably, this is how it -- and his first "novels" -- met their demise. For his early fiction this may have been a compassionate act of God.

Not to be deterred, Ashton has continued to write. His poetry prefers pen and paper; he has bought a working laptop for the prose. Today he is an english major turned freelance writer, turned server, recently turned local restaurant manager. He writes in bursts following late night shifts, typing out paragraphs he's been holding in his head all day.

For now, his words have found a home in Ogden, Utah, just down the road from the haunting childhood canyon which first inspired his imagination to seek out a written self. Many of the stanzas in this poem refer back to images from those early years.

Ashton lives in a dysfunctional 1920's apartment with its long dead ghostly inhabitants, his talented partner Conner, and their unique dog who sometimes goes by the name of Fennel.