the dark hangs heavy over the bridge this night as shadows play near dim pools of light   two distant silhouettes distant enough that were they to merge they would embody affection even to prejudiced eyes that on closer inspection would then reject it…

Mortals are good readers of grief. In a nameless city, there’s a claim mortals do not know how to read things written, and poems scribbled – a light for their pathway into Eden, the new one. How else does a man prophesy blindness to his…

Sing awake the day For the only reason to breathe is between your rib cage and your wings Spread them Stretch into the beautiful day Old wounds and tight constriction released as beauty opens to the way new truths expand and  release Catch em!!

Droplets of seraphic light the camera froze up time for you. Glowing abdomens so bright, dance around the tall bamboo.   I would like to join in play, dapple light along my way. Little seraphs tipped with light, see me through this pitch dark night….

A poet hardly ever receives              an invitation to write about cheese. Lack of imagination             could be the reason or             lactose intolerance.  

poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese a great man once wrote hence my attempt to set things right for cabbages and kings have been mentioned in the same poetic line why not cheese and the president surely one eats the other…

everything is connected even castles are from an idea tall and majestic full of round rock, and lava its mighty and full radiant in all its glory

Baseball: The Surrogate Father   Baseball is a surrogate father. Every piece of advice which I expound to my children – that goes in one ear and out the other – gets reinforced every Saturday for three hours on the baseball diamond after the umpire…

This time of year always meant so much to me for so long Cookies and Christmas trees decorations and snow even presents and family to yell with- oh the chaos I’m not gonna lie It’s really hard this year even though you’ve been gone awhile-…

Waking up Red Sun rising up blades of leaves shakes off to fresh life Hour 22