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Our journey began with the trail off the main street of which is Holmes Road. Along this particular street, we rode our bikes up and down the concrete hills in search of the path into the plains of the wooded area. There would be the beginning of our journey. Before then though, all I could think to myself while sitting idle on the porch was "Be no punk for no one - not the bees, nor the dogs that ran around in packs." Neither would the bullies deter me from the way I had set out to live.

The book of poetry and prose is an outgrowth of what my mother and I shared: she carrying the child; the child receiving all from being carried. When she ate, I ate. What she drank, I drank. When she thought, I had to be part of the process of development - broken off and absorbed. It is true I believe that something passes between the two, mother and child, to which fathers cannot relate. They beam over the result. She beams over the process. This, I believe, helps shape the child; molds, and to a degree, determines what the child may become. I'm glad it's like that Her poems are the...