so we’re talking—

it’s how we roll, right? 

a process—reflection, 

something personal 

active in real.

an interview—yes.

an environment 

halfway cause 

questions ask—

what we ask

your response flows—

finds and goes 

—falls off, you don’t know what 

to say, “another headspace

to recreate 

communication—true and clad 

for challenge—

a friend encouraged me 

to make a mess 

to remind me

I have everything.

he was fairy—

showed up was like, 

“hey, tough time—try this,” 

and it worked. 

ever since it's made sense 

everything exists in the mess

—a story told every moment

we exist.

what Wallace called the pressure of reality.

it is the pressure, these poems—they sort of 

end, they go nowhere but the in-way—

avenues to the moment, but ultimate,

saying something someone says they said, 

but the poem delivers who someone is— 

they’re pressure of reality,

to paint—in a way. 

to show them someone not seen.

This business celebrates the spoken word.

a human effort accepting what’s

the best right now—not, but rather,

what’s in front of what is. 

the moment it is the moment.

writing’s never been easy for me

it’s been something

I've wondered—

I know how edit language

from unkempt-to-truth

—things I’m feeling,

experiencing. 

I channel that energy

—that’s the power.

I equate completeness

never complete.

I'm disjointed purposeful flow

we believe something exists

inside the experience—

every one of us a poet

and profound.

nothing artificial—

farm-to-table 

craft copy 

with perspective—. 

a memory film of 

moments we lived—

experience-poetry 

extract within.

birdsong—

exists in art 

combined of words

to folk cliché—

some crafts-

man never reach 

that folk sound

that folksy ring—

I mean—or not take off— 

but not what I want to say.

I want work that makes me happy

some real-no-hype

view-of-the-world everything

okay—I’ve said a lot of things:

I really like it here—

I’m leaning, sense,

capture genuine moments,

find the message in the mess

—big mess.

poetics—

not prose, 

it’s the poetry of prose. 

reads lyrical.

video space in-lane

—oh boy— 

I need a job. 

whether product description 

or social language,

I shape bird song 

to intention power.

about ben

I have this idea—

it’s called poetics.

it’s the art of taking—

well, let me look it up 

because I’m spinning

off some form that exists 

on some foundation

—not ‘museum object’

but informed history

of the moment

truth refers to real life 

inside the poem.

—I’m freaking out.

I’m multi-passionate—

creator, writer, filmmaker— 

services for brands who

connect audience on art

and challenge literary form.

recording is how I write. 

I write as long as I'm editing.

People closing doors and shit

I’m smoking inside—

worried someone’s gonna knock—

‘oh. I’ll stop—I didn’t know—no.

I thought it was okay.’

I wouldn’t do this again—

‘this is weird—what’s this world 

I came here to do’—maybe

I should wrap this ‘about’ page.

whether copy or narrative,

capture truth in language,

document poetics—

it's like, “oh, so brilliant,

as I did when I recorded him.”

capture something real—

an interview—discussion.

want to capture that moment?

record it—send me the recording. 

I turn copy—you know?

no—that’s stupid.

that’s not what I’m saying.

who am I? 

I guess you want know 

what I can offer you—

what do I do that 

could appeal to you.

I know I'm not one thing—

I'm no longer confused.

Some door—I mean,

that's a little cliché, 

but what else do we have? 

it's who we are—.

still walk through doors

all the time.

ghosts, in a way—

haunting every school

park and corner.

—all sort of here—

we can capture moments

so many—

so many conversations, 

forgotten details, places 

we don't remember—

what we said, 

why we laughed— 

we don't understand.

I've been lucky in my career

to work a specialized job.

my grad-ed shoe-in—

ten years of hours of footage, 

organize and mold a sequence.

songs listened—poems read. 

what it was, like I said, 

I became a teacher—why? 

to realize 

I didn't want to be a teacher.

we document your language—

from those conversations, 

we build poetics. 

it’s f*****g crazy brilliant.

so going back to the beginning.

I am passionately in the process 

of developing my voice—

something between 

commonality and simple.

not grassroots.

maybe salt of the earth, 

though I often don’t

in a city on the ocean— 

I'm there—playing in sand,

finding sea glass and trees.

an owl hoots every morning 

and springtime—