There Is No I in Debris is a walking and talking contradiction. Of course, as a matter of fact, the English letter is plain to see. If, however, the reader would care to acknowledge the fluid nature of that self who processes experience with images and words, the effect of these poems will be to expose the mysterious vulnerability of that authentic person who so often hides behind various familial and societal roles. The poet here posits a crisis, especially for clergy and various leaders of the institutional church in the twenty-first century. We are now entering a postmodern field of debris, in which the fragments of one's identity must be confronted amid the mere artifice of Christendom.
