Tuesday, April 24, 2018

Jeff Mann: Wiccan, Pagan, Tattooed Poet

Today's tattooed poet is Jeff Mann, who shared this cool tattoo:


Jeff tells us:
I’ve been a Wiccan and pagan since I was a teenager. Because my bloodlines are Irish, Scots, English, and German, I’ve taken more and more of an interest in the Celtic and Norse gods and goddesses as I’ve aged. In 2003 I sat in on a graduate class at Virginia Tech, a course that focused on Celtic and Norse literature, and I got to read The Elder Edda, The Prose Edda, and a bunch of Icelandic sagas. These readings became the inspiration for my third book of poetry, Ash: Poems from Norse Mythology.
The hammer-wielding thunder god Thor is my favorite Norse deity. I admire his warrior manliness, his earthiness, his strength, and his determination to protect those he cares for. I showed several Thor’s-hammer images to my tattoo artist, Shaun Carroll (@shaun.hotrodtat2) at Hot Rod Tattoo in Blacksburg, Virginia, and he came up with the design, complete with Celtic knots and Wiccan pentagram.
Jeff shared the following poem, as well, which originally appeared in Chelsea Station and in his collection A Romantic Mann:

HOMOMONUMENT, AMSTERDAM

Commemorates all women and men
    ever oppressed and persecuted
        because of their homosexuality.

Pink triangles of granite.
    Three of them, interlocked,
        jutting out into the busy waters

of Keizersgracht.  A smooth
    stone shelf we step onto
        gingerly, as if it were an edge

of rosy ice that might break loose
    and floe us off to sea.  About our feet,
        white wreaths of lilies, peony-

scatter, wilting commemorations
    like those rose bouquets tenderly
        laid about the statue of Anne Frank

just around the corner.  Here, flowers
    share the space with cigarette ends,
        bottle caps, candle butts, the pearly swirls

of wax long cooled.  (Semen’s
    molten moonstone sealing together
        the bellies of lucky lovers, tears freezing
   
a widower’s beard.)   In a safety
    born of sheer coincidence, on this pink
        promontory flanked by the canal’s

wake and flux, we touch history’s
    spilled tallow, calla lily memories
        not our own: the lesbian stoned to death

in the public square, the faggot-
        pyre heaped about the sodomite,
            ashes shoveled from the cooling

furnaces of Buchenwald.  
    Those deaths become our whetstone.
        Upon this pink granite prow sword-sharp
   
and sheer as honed will,
    we sit together, knee to knee,
        in the Dutch sun’s imprimatur,

dipping frites into mayonnaise,
    feeding each another.
        Perfect photo opportunity for those

in tour boats who float by.  They listen to
    the story of the Homomonument, point us out—
        living examples!—aim their cameras, smile.

 ~ ~ ~

Jeff Mann grew up in Covington, Virginia, and Hinton, West Virginia, receiving degrees in English and forestry from West Virginia University. His poetry, fiction, and essays have appeared in many publications, including Arts and Letters, Prairie Schooner, Shenandoah, Willow Springs, The Gay and Lesbian Review Worldwide, Crab Orchard Review, and Appalachian Heritage. He has published three award-winning poetry chapbooks, Bliss, Mountain Fireflies, and Flint Shards from Sussex; five full-length books of poetry, Bones Washed with Wine, On the Tongue, Ash: Poems from Norse Mythology, A Romantic Mann, and Rebels; two collections of personal essays, Edge: Travels of an Appalachian Leather Bear and Binding the God: Ursine Essays from the Mountain South; three novellas, Devoured, included in Masters of Midnight: Erotic Tales of the Vampire, Camp Allegheny, included in History’s Passion: Stories of Sex Before Stonewall, and The Saga of Einar and Gisli, included in On the Run: Tales of Gay Pursuit and Passion; six novels, Cub, Country, InsatiableFog: A Novel of Desire and Reprisal (which won the Pauline Réage Novel Award), Purgatory: A Novel of the Civil War (which won a Rainbow Award), and Salvation: A Novel of the Civil War (which won both the Pauline Réage Novel Award and a Lambda Literary Award); a book of poetry and memoir, Loving Mountains, Loving Men; and three volumes of short fiction, Desire and Devour: Stories of Blood and Sweat, Consent: Bondage Tales, and A History of Barbed Wire (which won a Lambda Literary Award). In 2013, he was inducted into the Saints and Sinners Literary Festival Hall of Fame. He teaches creative writing at Virginia Tech in Blacksburg, Virginia.

Thanks to Jeff for sharing his tattoo and poem with us here on Tattoosday's Tattooed Poets Project!



This entry is ©2018 Tattoosday. The poem and tattoo are reprinted with the poet's permission.


If you are reading this on another website other than Tattoosday, without attribution, please note that it has been copied without the author's permission and is in violation of copyright laws. Please feel free to visit http://tattoosday.net and read our original content. Please let me know if you saw this elsewhere so I contact the webmaster of the offending site and advise them of this violation in their Terms of Use Agreement.

Monday, April 23, 2018

J.P. Grasser on the Tattooed Poets Project

Today's tattooed poet is J.P. Grasser


J.P. elaborates on the tattoo, which reads "Our almost-instinct almost true:/What will survive of us is love":
Recently, I read a beautiful little scrap from Rebecca Solnit: 'The self is also a creation, the principal work of your life, the crafting of which makes everyone an artist. This unfinished work of becoming ends only when you do, if then, and the consequences live on' (italics, mine; from The Faraway Nearby). This is wildly out of context, but it holds up just the same, to my ear. The most important phrase in there: 'if then.'
There's the old thinking on tattoosthe permanence, the body-as-canvas, the self-expression. 
There's the old thinking on tattoosthe symbology, the beautiful reversion to atavistic modes of communication: pictographs, etc., where image, meaning, & sound are inexorably bound, are undivorceable from one another. 
There's the old thinking on tattoossomething visible, something totemic, something to reflect the inner-self. (All reflection: distortion.)
The old thinking is good enough. But put in context, wildly so, vis-à-vis Solnit's case, it doesn't hold up as well to my ear. Or, at least, it's not the whole picture. Every/one: an artistagreed. Every/body's magnum opus: the selfagreed. So the act of tattooing, to my mind, is the act of self-forging (self-forgoing?). They don't conflate, they don't co-exist, they collapse, together. Both. The skin is both canvas and paint, or so the metaphor goes. 
Go listen to Kelly McFarling's "Both." It will help you understand me. 
What I'm trying to get at, however obliquely, is this: neither a tattoo nor a poem is expression. They're experience. They're temporal & atemporal, all at once—they happen in time, but don't live in time. Sounds a bit like Memory, eh? Like Love, almost?
Which is all to say: the tattoo I have now is not the one I got Spring of 2015. It's neither the same to me, nor the same in appearance. When I got it, I remember Jesse saying, with that flair of wily gratitude, Come back any time, he said, touch ups for free. Any time, touch, free. 
But I want the ink-object, the poem-object, like the self, to be of-&-for entropy, to be its own recreation, daily. Let the edges fray; let it bleed. 
The homespun-piece referenced in the poem, that's long gone, just a few little scars now, layered under the one pictured. 
The lines themselves come from Larkin's 'An Arundel Tomb.' The most important phrase in there isn't 'love.' It isn't 'what will survive of us.' It isn't 'true.' There is no finitude to the selfto its gulfs, slash-piles, glaciers, xeric crags, tectonic fissures. We are human-animals. We are reason-beasts. We are hybridity incarnate & as such, if/then, the only phrase that can really matter is: 'almost-instinct almost.' & Thatthat is the experience of Negative Capability. Isn't Love always a consequence, always? 
J.P. mentions Jesse above, referring to his artist Jesse Kuzniarski (@jessek_tattoos) at Brightside Tattoo Shop (@brightsidetattooshop) in Baltimore. 

He also shared the following poem:


THIRD DATE 
  
for Maggie
  
Remember how we lay, naked, the usual silt
of hardwood floors clinging to our elbows,
our hips? You dipped the needle, dragged
St. Augustine’s symbol for non-linear time

(your idea) into my arm. Didn’t I try to be stoic

for you?—I feel no pain; I feel nothing. I admit,
I was sure once that love meant being jealous
of oneself. I admit it. I wanted to clutch
that instinct for recklessness, to own it & forever,
& I wanted you to hold me the way skin holds
an iron splinter. Remember the perfect sphere
of my blood, balanced on the needle’s tip?

How you licked it clean, returned it to pure
gleaming, without so much as a second thought?
I keep coming back, you said, back to this shape.

~ ~ ~


A current Wallace Stegner Fellow, J.P. Grasser is a PhD candidate in Literature & Creative Writing at the University of Utah, where he serves as Editor-in-Chief for Quarterly West.

Thanks to J.P. for sharing his tattoo and poem with us here on the Tattooed Poets Project on Tattoosday!

This entry is ©2018 Tattoosday. The poem and tattoo are reprinted with the poet's permission.

If you are reading this on another website other than Tattoosday, without attribution, please note that it has been copied without the author's permission and is in violation of copyright laws. Please feel free to visit http://tattoosday.net and read our original content. Please let me know if you saw this elsewhere so I contact the webmaster of the offending site and advise them of this violation in their Terms of Use Agreement.

Sunday, April 22, 2018

melanie kristeen's Orchids (The Tattooed Poets Project)

Our next tattooed poet is melanie kristeen, who shared this phenomenal tattoo:


melanie gave us a little background on the tattoo:
"The tattoo on my left forearm is of a few orchids with water droplets and was done by Aleah Lauren (@iyamaleah) who works in Austin, Texas. The piece was crafted to pay homage to Clarice Lispector's stream-of-consciousness masterpiece, Água Viva. We read this experimental novel in the second year of my MFA program. It was inspiring and refreshing to me during a time when I sincerely began to doubt my relationship to poetry and writing. The tattoo was inspired by the quote from the book below,
The beautiful orchid is exquise and unpleasant. It isn't spontaneous. It needs a glass dome. But it is a magnificent woman and that cannot be denied. Nor can it be denied that it is noble because it is epiphytic. Epiphytes are born on other plants without however taking nutrition from them. I was lying when I said it was unpleasant. I adore orchids. They're born artificial, they're born art."
melanie shared the following poem, as well:

for the Men and Women
who still don’t know
what to make of it




These stories are true. – statement from louis c.k.

        I. curtain

I resolve to stare out from below || back and forth,
back and forth || through his window the sky appears

to breathe – breath heavy and ugly, the clouds are still
moving west, though, just barely || he clenches My wrists tight

as though spindles for fire || back and forth, I twist back and forth
so hard I drip pomegranate juice from forearms and elsewhere

My throat aches – it just wants sleep,
sullen and swollen though it may be.




II. coda

I don’t dream in parables
but that night I walked through a field

of dead palomino horses
on piles of yellowed fig leaves ||

in the black I sucked
my gums so hard

a tooth came straight
out of my skull and into being.


~ ~ ~

melanie kristeen is a second year poetry MFA candidate at Texas State. Her work has been published in the anthology We Can Make Your Life Better by University of Hell Press in 2016, and her poetry has appeared in Drunk in a Midnight Choir and Voices de laLuna. She received residencies from Damsite Winter Arts Colony and Osage Arts Community. melanie is the CEO of a content writing firm, By Proxy, and is also a freelance journalist working with publications across Central and South Texas.

Thanks to melanie for sharing her tattoo and poem with us here on the Tattooed Poets Project on Tattoosday!


This entry is ©2018 Tattoosday. The poem and tattoo are reprinted with the poet's permission.


If you are reading this on another website other than Tattoosday, without attribution, please note that it has been copied without the author's permission and is in violation of copyright laws. Please feel free to visit http://tattoosday.net and read our original content. Please let me know if you saw this elsewhere so I contact the webmaster of the offending site and advise them of this violation in their Terms of Use Agreement.

Saturday, April 21, 2018

Melissa Fite Johnson on the Tattooed Poets Project

Our next tattooed poet is Melissa Fite Johnson.

She sent us the following photo collage:


Melissa explains:
"I had plenty of reasons to regret the tattoo I got at nineteen before the term tramp stamp entered our collective vocabulary. It was poorly done, it didn’t have any special meaning, and I’d gone with my not-very-nice then-boyfriend to get it. Actually, the reason I got it was because I was tired of being considered such a good girl, reliable and trustworthy and not wild at all, and somehow I thought a tattoo would prove otherwise. Of course, once I grew into a confident person, once I decided reliability and trustworthiness were excellent characteristics to possess, I especially hated my tattoo. It was a constant reminder that I didn’t used to like myself.
As much as I regretted my tattoo for other reasons, my embarrassment became palpable when lower-back tattoos started being referred to as tramp stamps. I wish I could say I’d been a stronger woman and not let that sexist term get to me, but it totally did. It was just so prevalent. So many people used it, even many other women with lower-back tattoos. It was a running joke on How I Met Your Mother, one of my favorite shows. Any time I went to a doctor who lifted my shirt to put a stethoscope to my back, or to a massage therapist who asked me to lie face-down on the table, I flushed with shame. I bought only one-piece bathing suits. I squatted rather than bent over to pick up anything I dropped. My tattoo felt like a dirty secret. I dreaded anyone seeing it and proclaiming, 'You have a tramp stamp?' which, despite my efforts, still happened.
It took more than a decade, but I finally stopped letting the term tramp stamp haunt me. Words like 'tramp' and 'slut' shouldn’t be used to describe any woman, no matter how many partners she’s had, no matter how she’s dressed, no matter where her tattoos are. No matter what. A major problem in our society is that so many people consider terms like tramp stamp (and the more recent skank flank) to be harmless, inoffensive. That’s simply not true. These terms have the power to humiliate women, as I can attest, and they contribute to rape culture. To reduce women to sexual objects, to dismiss their worth as human beings because of a tattoo, is a first step down a dangerous slippery slope. 
My story has a happy ending. A few years ago, my husband and I visited friends in Columbus, Ohio. Our first night there, we got to talking about tattoos, and I mentioned how much I hated mine. One of our friends offered to contact a tattoo artist he knew, and suddenly our night’s plans changed. The artist, Joey Knuckles (@joeyknucklestattoo) at High Street Tattoo (@highstreettattoo), had a gorgeous portfolio and a reputation for exquisite cover-up work. I’d long ago decided what tattoo I should’ve gotten instead of a star-with-no-meaning, so (with an incredibly nervous belly), I asked for leaves of grass, in honor of my favorite book of poetry. I’m thrilled with the result. Now I have a beautiful tattoo with meaning, one I got surrounded by people I love and who love me."
Melissa also sent us the following poem, which first appeared in Whale Road Review (2016):

Donating My Eggs
In the fertility clinic waiting room
I’m the youngest by ten years,
except for a toddler
everyone smiles at wistfully.
He wears cowboy boots
and has a matching hat his mother
won’t let him put on indoors. He says
he’s not a real cowboy without it.
Before my ultrasound,
the boy’s mother says,
All it takes is one good egg.
My cousin, forty-one and beautiful,
so skinny I can’t imagine her
with a curved silhouette by Christmas,
doesn’t answer. Later,
on the car ride home, she says,
If he were my son,
he could wear that hat to funerals.
~ ~ ~

Melissa Fite Johnson received her Master’s in English literature from Pittsburg State University in Kansas. Individual poems have appeared in RattleValparaiso Poetry ReviewBroadsided Pressand elsewhere. Her first collection, While the Kettle’s On (Little Balkans Press, 2015), and her second, Ghost Sign (Spartan Press, 2016), which she co-authored, were both named Kansas Notable Books. She is also the author of A Crooked Door Cut into the Sky, winner of the 2017 Vella Chapbook Award (Paper Nautilus Press, 2018). Melissa and her husband live with their dog and chickens in Kansas, where she teaches English.



Thanks to Melissa for contributing to the Tattooed Poets Project on Tattoosday!

To see our entire list of poets over the last ten years, please visit www.tattooedpets.com.



This entry is ©2018 Tattoosday. The poem and tattoo are reprinted with the poet's permission.

If you are reading this on another website other than Tattoosday, without attribution, please note that it has been copied without the author's permission and is in violation of copyright laws. Please feel free to visit http://tattoosday.net and read our original content. Please let me know if you saw this elsewhere so I contact the webmaster of the offending site and advise them of this violation in their Terms of Use Agreement.

Friday, April 20, 2018

Keith S. Wilson on The Tattooed Poets Project

Our next tattooed poet is Keith S. Wilson, who shares this interesting tattoo:


We'll let Keith explain the origins of these markings:
" I got a crop circle because it's awesome. But I also chose this tattoo because it represents a peculiar modern mythology that I've identified with in some capacity for most my life. Crop circles are associated with 'Greys' (the large-headed, big-eyed aliens you see in everything from Spencer’s Gift posters to the X-Files. Curiously, they are just as often portrayed as green-skinned as grey), and other images and ideas exist as well, all of which I love: UFOs, crop circles, cattle abduction, vivisection, tractor beams, ray guns, etc. The idea that aliens walk among us, communicating loudly but still never being seen is a feeling I’ve had since at least high school. It is based, I’m sure, on feeling literally alienated as a racially ambiguous, but not white, resident of Kentucky, in primarily white environments. We’re out there. Believe.

Sci-fi is a genre that, for me, vacillates wildly between three different modes: 1) writing openly about race/gender/sexual orientation/identity/etc., 2) writing accidentally about them, and 3) trying to write about them but failing. I love when it does it right, but I also love how it marries the future (science, advancement, hope) with the past and present (mythology, humanism). I write about all these things, to varying degrees.

Specifically, I chose the design because most crop circles occur in England and this one happened in America (which also may contribute to its unique figure, which is not 'circular' per se). If it means anything, it might portray a planet and satellite, but who, of course, can know with an image that appears suddenly in the night."
Keith also kindly offered up the following poem, which originally appeared in The Adroit Journal:

I Investigate Terraforming in My 30s

Soon enough I find an Earth-like
planet, but how Earth-like is only like, is like

how a kiss may be alike
but isn't quite,

or how every photo from Kentucky—
how you used to sigh—is only

now a likeness. Or how this bandaged light
upends the bruise that became

the sky: I liked you, I like liked
you. And we held each other

as we made our child-
hoods hush; we strained

to merge like trees into a custom. We held
to each other’s hands

even when our notes
were misaligned. We would,

without half-trying, alight one upon the other.
What is gravity to our horns? We reached

and tore each other plain as walls
or erstwhile countries,

and the dream became a sun,
beneath me, the land, the fade

of wing,  my every instrument
a lyre’s vital music, my every simile, a flame.

~ ~ ~  

Keith S. Wilson is an Affrilachian Poet, Cave Canem fellow, and graduate of the Callaloo Creative Writing Workshop. He has received three scholarships from Bread Loaf as well as scholarships from MacDowell, UCross, Millay Colony, and the Vermont Studio Center, among others. Keith serves as Assistant Poetry Editor at Four Way Review and Digital Media Editor at Obsidian Journal. Keith's first book, Fieldnotes on Ordinary Love, will be published by Copper Canyon in 2019.

Thanks to Keith for sharing his tattoo and poem with us here on Tattoosday, on the Tattooed Poets Project.


To see our entire list of poets over the last ten years, please visit www.tattooedpoets.com.


This entry is ©2018 Tattoosday. The poem and tattoo are reprinted with the poet's permission.

If you are reading this on another website other than Tattoosday, without attribution, please note that it has been copied without the author's permission and is in violation of copyright laws. Please feel free to visit http://tattoosday.net and read our original content. Please let me know if you saw this elsewhere so I contact the webmaster of the offending site and advise them of this violation in their Terms of Use Agreement.


Thursday, April 19, 2018

Susannah Nevisson and Her Murmuration of Birds (The Tattooed Poets Project)

Today's tattooed poet is Susannah Nevisson, who shared this pretty cool-looking tattoo:


Susannah told us:
"I got this tattoo after finishing my PhD coursework in 2014, and about six months
after placing my first book, Teratology, for publication. The book deals in large part
with the aftermath of extensive leg and ankle surgery I had in 2012. You can see the
scars from three pin sites along my knee in this picture—I have a matching set of
scars higher up my leg, below my hip. Since people often stare at my scars and ask
about them, I decided I would try to make something beautiful out of them, a kind
of testament to surviving both writing my book and the intense period of recovery
the surgery entailed. The murmuration of birds runs the length of my thigh, curving
around the pin sites at either end. It’s not my only tattoo, but it’s the only one I got
while living and writing in Salt Lake City. It was done by Eddy del Rio at Anchor Tattoo (@anchorinktattoo)."
Eddy is now at Tooth & Nail Tattoo, also in Salt Lake City.

In addition to the cool tattoo, Susannah sent us the following poem:


Morphine, The Recurring Dream of Birds


That birds have bones

in their tongues—that they press

your hair in their beaks—that they carry


you home in pieces—your body

boneless as hair—that birds press

your bones in their beaks—that bodiless


hair lines a nest—that birds truss

their nest with your bones—that every

beak widens a wound—that birds


dive in, dive deep—that every wound

swallows a bird—that birds

dive straight to the bone—


that tendons are slender

as hair—that birds

tear muscle, tap bone—


that your bones ring hollow

as beaks—that birds carry

you home in pieces—

~ ~ ~

Susannah Nevison is the author of two collections of poetry, Lethal Theater (forthcoming from Ohio State University Press, 2019), winner of the 2017 The Journal/Charles B. Wheeler Poetry Prize, and Teratology (Persea Books, 2015), winner of the 2014 Lexi Rudnitsky First Book in Poetry Prize. New work has appeared in or is forthcoming from Tin House, Blackbird, Pleiades, Crazyhorse, and The New York Times. Beginning fall 2018, she will be an Assistant Professor of English and Creative Writing at Sweet Briar College.

Thanks to Susannah for sharing her work with us here on the Tattooed Poets Project on Tattoosday!


This entry is ©2018 Tattoosday. The poem and tattoo are reprinted with the poet's permission.

If you are reading this on another website other than Tattoosday, without attribution, please note that it has been copied without the author's permission and is in violation of copyright laws. Please feel free to visit http://tattoosday.net and read our original content. Please let me know if you saw this elsewhere so I contact the webmaster of the offending site and advise them of this violation in their Terms of Use Agreement.

Wednesday, April 18, 2018

Eric Machan Howd's Musical Hands (The Tattooed Poets Project)

Today's tattooed poet is Eric Machan Howd, who shared these cool tattoos:


Eric explained
"The tattoos above are some of my most recent work. I’ve since gotten one new tattoo on the back of my neck. Music and poetry are two of the most important aspects of my life.; I cannot live without either.
I have been a professional pianist/organist for over 35 years and have played on instruments from New Jersey to the Czech Republic. I saw this design as a laptop sticker and loved how the G (Treble) and F (Bass) clefs were designed to make a heart. So, I walked to my local tattoo shop, where I have gotten almost all of my work done, and shared the design with my artist (Cesar) at Medusa Tattoo. Cesar Enciso (@cesarenciso) owns and operates this parlour with his glorious spouse, Carol Oddy (@carolthealien). Both are amazing artists; my newest tattoo was done by Carol, so that I could say both spouses worked on me.
Eric correctly noted that "hands sometime reject ink," and that he has "had to go back for a few touch-ups so that the clefs are fully inked."

Eric was also kind enough to share the following tattoo-related poem, a version of which first appeared  in Nostalgia PressHeart (No. 12, 2017) where it received an honorable mention, and publication, in their national contest:

Edison’s Electric Pen Vibrating

The feel of the itch for ink,
the need to be stretched canvas,
illustrated, illuminated, annotated
to have life marked,
stamped, and stained on skin.

Thomas Edison’s electric pen
repurposed into coil machine
sings about the young woman's
design: an angel cradling
a grayscale baby-boy,
centered on her back;
her brother's ashes swirled
with black ink; needles
that bury and sew siblings together.

Nations become seamless in
the full-body skins of the Yakuza,
koi and dragons constricting muscles,
the dusty green anchors that weigh
on the forearms of retired sailors,
the black skulls cupped by curvy
Betties undulating on biker biceps.

The tattooed know what’s behind
Maori masks and understand the secrets on
the inked lips of single Ainu women,
the meaning of lines carved into Borneo face.
They understand the TongSamoansPolynesians
CeltsScythians, all those who memorialize
life in flesh, who suffer to remember
loved ones, who brand themselves freak
and make themselves a living book, opened
to the world, wanting to be read, wanting
to be inked over and over.

~ ~ ~

Eric Machan Howd (Ithaca, NY) is an Assistant Professor of Professional and Technical Writing (Department of Writing) at Ithaca College. He is also a professional organist, pianist, and choir director in the Ithaca area. Eric’s poetry has appeared in River City, Nimrod, Yankee Magazine, and The Healing Muse (selected). He is currently pursuing his MFA in Creative Writing (Poetry) with the Vermont College of Fine Arts. His lives, loves, and writes with his glorious spouse and poet, Katharyn Howd Machan, and their two cats, Footnote and Byron.

Thanks to Eric for sharing his tattoos and poem with us here on the Tattooed Poets Project on Tattoosday!

To see our entire list of poets over the last ten years, please visit www.tattooedpoets.com.

This entry is ©2018 Tattoosday. The poem and tattoo are reprinted with the poet's permission.


If you are reading this on another website other than Tattoosday, without attribution, please note that it has been copied without the author's permission and is in violation of copyright laws. Please feel free to visit http://tattoosday.net and read our original content. Please let me know if you saw this elsewhere so I contact the webmaster of the offending site and advise them of this violation in their Terms of Use Agreement.