Jaffe says he was born on a mountaintop in the South Bronx (despite statements to the contrary and that there are no mountains in the Bronx), in the shadow of Yankee Stadium. From the time he could walk he either was going to play baseball, hoops or be a poet or writer. Either that or is the spiritual reincarnation of Davy Crockett he just couldnâ€™t make up his mind. He felt he had that mountaintop thing in common with Crockett and his folks once bought him a coonskin cap that he felt ridiculous in, thus took off on this peculiar tangent. He is the product of his own dreams born and bred from Eastern European stock of Russia and Romania. He has decided that he no longer believe in biographies, and adamantly poses â€œWhy must I trot out lists of places I have appeared and places I have been published or tell you about my childhood dreams to be a beatnik when I grew-up, If you want to know who I am read my poetry, Itâ €™s all in there. The air is letters, I breathe them in and simply breathe out poetry.