When I began writing poetry, I worked for a community-based development organization whose mission was to rebuild devastated urban communities. This poetry was grounded in a strong sense of place, intertwining my vocation and life experiences. Through such influences, my poems re-imagined the people who live, as poet Lorna Dee Cervantes once wrote, “beneath the shadows of the freeway.” These poems reflect the subtle peculiarities, neglected buildings, and lives of those frequently unrecognized and unnoticed. Upon reflection, I see that much of this poetry grew out of the traditions of Whitman and Williams in its democratizing impulse and colloquial energy. An example of this can be seen in the poem “Union Street,” an early poem featured in my chapbook, Raincoat Variations. Inspired by the burning of Sacred Heart Church, “Union Street” represents the mourning of a neighborhood as they watch the destruction of a building that embodies their greatest comforts and fears.  
            Much of my recent writing has moved to a more focused examination of familial relationships in working-class middle-America—the place of my roots. I am interested in exploring the struggle for connectedness, the breakdown of communication between generations, and the eventual reconnection that occurs through the common language people in communities share.
             “Wrecking the Orpheum,” a poem in the current issue of the Notre Dame Review, represents a melding of my connection with communities often alienated by mainstream America and my recent move into an exploration of working-class America. This poem is a meditative narrative in which the speaker has moved back to his home town to clean up his life and ends up working a construction job tearing down an old theater in which he once performed. The only thing being saved is the façade, which will be used as an ornamental front for the new civic center.