The twenty-something son of a minister from southern Connecticut, Seth was born and raised in the Adirondacks of upstate New York. From a young age, Seth was an awkward child, and saw himself as a loner. He always had the nagging feeling that he had been born with the sole purpose of becoming a tortured artist. This made things between him and God quite turbulent at times, and their relationship is complicated at best. Presently the two are not on speaking terms. Surrounded by the beauty of nature all his young life, Seth believed the world was a simple place, and that there must have been some sort of devine order in the world. Upon moving to Connecticut, and more specifically, into the New Haven area, he abandoned such childlike ideals and embraced the choas and despondency of suburbia. Seth writes only when he feels inspired to, and his poems and prose follow a wide range of topics. To date, he has written about such things as self mutilation, death, self deprication, anarchy, war, starvation, depression, enlightenment, his cynical view of religion, and his personal relationships, but above all else his focus has been love, which is the ultimate evil, ultimate good and thus an infinite source of inspiration for his writing.
There's a birds nest outside my window,
a bright white ribbon woven into it.
The tail of the ribbon is dancing in the barely present wind.
The scene takes place in a barren tree,
...
The horrors of war.
The terror of the unknown.
The widespread panic.
Bombarding in such a routine fashion,
...
My brother born inside a cage,
You'll die inside that place,
My brother for a summer,
The world was never yours to have,
...
Waltzing through the cars,
Soaring through the stars,
Love comes flooding down,
With it comes the sound,
...
You've conquered Mars, extinguished stars,
On broken wings you've broken kings,
Wretched wraith of wind and wrath,
Cosmic, sex crazed psychopath,
...