While overseas in Iraq, I carried a few books with me in my assault pack (like a medium-sized backpack). I wanted to learn as much as possible about the people of Iraq, their culture, their history. I wanted to know more of the history layered into the earth. . . .

12 March 2004 . . .

The sun rose peach and to the chants of the Qur’an, voiced through speakers in the minarets off in the distance. We were set up in pre-dug tank positions from the Iraqi army of old, there in the ruins of Nineveh. The guard was a little cold, and damp, but not bad. I sat my shift with Specialist Bosch and we watched a small village in front of us come to life with the morning. . . .

I'd like to share a few journal entries from when I was an infantry soldier in Iraq. The overall journal I have from that period in my life is fairly substantial and I won't try to reproduce it all here. I'd just like to give a few snippets so that one can get a feel for the difference between poem entries and straight journal ones . . .

24 Dec 2003

. . . We call the enemy Haji. the Hajj is a journey one takes to Mecca as a religious pilgrimmage, hopefully at least once in one's lifetime. In this faith, this is a tremendously important event. Some travel hundreds of miles, and more, simply to be in Mecca, the holiest of places for many, during Ramadan. Our Haji is the "Charlie" of Viet Nam. It is definitely a racial/religious slur and yet it doesn't seem to be said with that in mind. It's more a way to put a name to what is sort of faceless, and anonymous. For most soldiers, there are 'good' Haji's and there are 'bad' ones. . . .

Stichic Integrity—the integrity of the line . . .

When writing the poems that comprise Here, Bullet and when editing those same poems once accepted by the publisher, I worked hard to focus on the integrity of the line. Each line needed to be considered in isolation for its own strengths and weaknesses. I think the following poem might serve as a good example. . . .

While walking in Chicago recently, I spoke with a friend about some of the difficulties of writing from within a combat zone . . . Poems were written quickly—most took no more than two or three days at the most. This is because I felt I had to capture them quickly—who knew if I (like anyone else in Iraq) would be there the next day. . . .