Watch the hands of young men in prison, moving pens across the page, and you see a story scrolled on their scarred fingers and bulging, busted knuckles. Their heads bowed in concentration, lips sometimes moving as they spell words to themselves or ask, how do you spell ‘before’. . . or ‘gate’? And yet they have more to tell us than we might imagine about a passion for violence.

As a Writer in Residence at a prison, I gaze at these young men’s heads and hands as they write poems about everlasting love – their relationships are usually in crisis; about their babies’ births – so many are dads; their life stories – “I could write a book!” I promise them that they’ll surprise themselves, that they will do some beautiful writing and they will discover what that feels like.
(more…)