<p><span style="color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 1)">I started writing free verse poetry during my last year at Highland High School. Our creative writing teacher was Mr. Ness. I adored him. We all did. He was like a father to us. He told us that those of us, like me, who could write poetry on their own were blessed. God whispered poems in their years. I was hooked. Mr. Ness introduced me to the worlds of Whitman, E. E. Cummings, William Carlos Williams and Carl Sandburg. That semester was heaven. I was excused from class along with three classmates to produce the annual high school literary magazine. The tranquil class of poetry was shattered by the brutal news that our fellow student Todd had taken his life in his garage. I could tell Mr Ness was crushed. I felt terrible When I write poetry it helps if I'm alone and it's quiet. I always read poetry aloud. That is essential. Otherwise, you lose the soul of your poem. Really good poems always make us cry; they touch our heart. The poems in this small book proudly embrace queerness. They look at the world of poetry through a queer lens. It is often deeply erotic, even exciting, but it is always beautiful, always founded on love between two men.</span></p>