John’s first book of poems, Galleria, first impressed me when he revealed his lost essence and how he’d barter for coffee with baristas. Knowing John, I don’t think he really lost that talent, but instead barters with editors and other writers in lieu of coffee girls. Congo Lights like Galleria, has that same air of having known John for years. Some of the poems are reminiscent and obvious as to who his influences are and who he admires. We’re America and Wielding Light remind me of a Ginsberg piece with their repeating lines that become the poems own mantra. Again in this book John has his growing collection of haikus for that quick poetic fix that we sometimes need. The poem Congo Lights gives a glimpse of where John’s been when he leaves those who he knows personally, every other month, to some ship to some other country. Poetry is something that isn’t forgotten because it isn’t even being looked at in the first place. we can’t have writers who hide their work away in a trunk to be discovered long after they’re gone or readers too apprehensive to read their work at open mics. Writing poetry is only 90% of the job while the rest is business, getting your work out there and being part of the ‘scene’. John does it beter than any writer I’ve seen and this attitued and motivation is shown not only when meeting him but through his words also. There is no ‘getting to know each other’ part of the freindship with John and that’s how his poetry is, as if its something you’ve been reading for years but you can still spend a day trip in the city with ‘em. Mark Brunetti- February 2009, Publisher of Piscataway House Publishing and The Idiom Magazine