A few years ago I was inspired by a meeting with a Nation of Islam bean pie vendor who had training ties with some of the martial arts people I have trained with over the past three decades. In that same summer I ran into another Nation of Islam vender and an old black boxer who I shared a city bus stop with for an hour on a Sunday morning as he spoke to me through broken teeth and clouded eyes in riddles and rhymes.

I shelved the project in my mind as my readers would find it of little interest and readers to whom it would appeal to would be averse to reading my work on principal. But then I was smitten with the heavy hand of guilt and I woke up in a cold sweat knowing that a chance to fulfill a promise had forever passed me by. For some reason, this brought the character of Akbar Qama, or Poet, together in my mind from amongst the dispirit strands of his inspiration. An emotional piece of me was all that had been missing, and I found it in my own failure as a boxing coach.

To recover the character voices of the cast of Poet, and to introduce the story to the readers we have picked up since I stopped writing it—which is to say most of you—I will begin proofing, correcting, and posting one installment of Poet per day, and then write the rest at the best pace I can manage.

Part of this is an extension of my experiment in method writing. The entire story takes place in August, in and around Baltimore. I will edit and finish writing the story in the place and month it is set.

Akbar Qama is a composite drawn from two black Muslims, two black martial artists, one black boxer, and one black boxing coach, who I have known.

The horror author is a version of James LaFond in my early thirties.

The homicide detective is a version of James LaFond as a fat alcoholic cop.

The Baltimore County cops are based directly on County cops I have worked with.

Mister Noble is a composite of a sparring partner of mine and an FBI agent who once interviewed me.

All of the minor characters are based directly on people who I met in boxing and MMA gyms, in libraries and in Downtown Baltimore, between 1998-2003, and at a funeral in 2013.

I recommend readers not read ahead using the tag tab, but wait for each posting. Poet is a book that will not sell, at all, so before I publish it in print, I will post the entire tale online.

Thanks for checking in.

James, Wednesday, August 5, 2015