The assignment was to clean and arrive on time the chair is the only thing left behind it was pretty like you left a little piece of god with those flowers you held before leaving placing them like a hope unborn in this empty room…

Poem No. 8   I loved my mother with all my heart When my father died, she lived with me. She was happy, sang songs and said her prayers But she did not like the cold winters. My sister came and promised her Eternal sunshine…

Hello, it’s me… Ain’t the sea of knowledge, but the sea of love, the sea that would never bite your ankles.   Don’t hit me with a letter, since ideas are water, needn’t to make it difficult to swallow.   Give it to me, the…

Pockets In the bucket under the carport is a lightbulb. She placed it there so she wouldn’t forget. In her jacket pocket she kept a jar of “cinnomen” as she called it, this woman from the bayou, to keep away “the bad.” In the other…

Reprieve   A bull elk, large rack on his head, stands alone in the bayou.   The hunter, in his beet red jacket, stands in his carport on the hill above the bayou.   He chews on a cinnamon stick, its peppery flavor calms the…

DEPRESSION Draining thoughts Entangling my mind Productive energy swept away Radically unmotivated Embarrassed to ask for help – I am told to Suck it up, grow up Silence Incredibly Overpowering Nudging me to disconnect, disassociate from the world

Associating traits with an idea seeing from your mind instead of your eyes you think love makes the ice colder when there are no promises you volunteer your heart and become an employee to a secret invisible boundary this connection is supposed to fill feeling…

That is not my conscience – fear; a beast that feeds on attention. Not just a beautiful root Call me black, that is a music to my ear. I preferred the root of integrity, for beauty is a fading flower. Behold, money or the love…

I’m here – In my beat-up beet-red leather jacket, The one with the elk-hide patch on the elbow. I sit in my skiff sensing the tremor of the bayou. I have a bucket for crawdads, and Flashlight with its just replaced light bulb. Will you…

Im a fading phantom traveling in the wind I am God related, jesus is my twin. My eyes are soaked with streets of smoke, The feel of having less is real. Silence dies, the city cries. I hear the songs of sacrifice. Marihuana scented wiffs,…