JUSTIN W Price
Biography of JUSTIN W Price
Justin was born in August of 1980 in Portland, Oregon and currently lives in a Portland Suburb (Hillsboro) with my wife and two dogs. He lived in Las Vegas, Nevada for three years from 2003-2006.
He is a theologically liberal lover of Jesus (think, Rob Bell) , a musician, a writer, a thinker, a cook and a lover.When he is not working on his novel of his latest poetry collection, his hobbies include literature, music, history, theology, politics, food, beer, cooking, karaoke, movies, and animals.
Justin is currently an honors student, majoring in English with an emphasis on Creative Writing. He also works as a free lance writer and editor and a tutor of guitar and bass. When he graduates with his PhD, he will continue his career as a free lance writer, as well as begin a career as an adjunct or part time college professor, novelist and professional poet.
His poem, Hot Pink Lipstick, will be featured in the march 2012 edition of efiction magazine.
His short story, Lime Green Buddha, is featured in the February 2012 edition of efiction magazine.
He was also profiled here recently.
On his hub you're going to get mostly poetry and short fiction. I'm constantly editing and revising, so check back often, even if you've read the poem or story before: -)
I also write here: http: //pdxkaraokeguy.hubpages.com and http: //pdxjprice.firstblog.blogspot.com. Please follow me there
JUSTIN W Price Poems
faceless shapeless blobs
I Spilled My Corn Flakes
It’s October and I’m getting ready for school with my brother. I’m in footie pajamas and I’m eating corn flakes with extra sugar.
On television, the rocket ascended forcefully towards Heaven. There’s a teacher on there, mother told me. Like your kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Clark. With the astronauts.
Smooth clay money denominated by color. On their face,
Leaves black brown cured with rum whiskey vanilla,
Hot Pink Lipstick
It was the first dead body I’d seen, Waxy and soulless. Hot pink lipstick, I laughed at the choice.
Smooth clay money denominated
by color. On their face,
painted brightly the words LAST FRONTIER,
lying in furious short stacks of ten,
maliciously marching across