The Law of the Unforeseen is about family, history, family history, the natural world--its beauty, its degradation--the strange miracle of consciousness. I write about the blues, failure, great apes, time passing, icebergs, massage therapy, the Civil War, crows, bats, potatoes, spoons and drones. Nothing is off the table. In fact, everything is on the table, including the fabled kitchen sink.
The poet Galway Kinnell once said that when writing a poem, the deeper you go inside yourself, and the more intimate you become in the process of composing and engaging language with your whole being, a strange thing happens. The poem, Kinnell said, becomes both personal and universal. By diving deep, the poem discovers--or uncovers--what binds us, what we all feel: the quickened heart of recognition and shared emotions.
That's what I've aimed for in The Law of the Unforeseen: to plumb deep, to find "the best words in their best order," as Samuel Taylor Coleridge said in his famous distinction between prose ("...words in the best order.") and poetry "...the best words in the best order").