A long time ago I wrote a poem for a girl whose beauty and grace was captivating, enthralling but who was also

Stardust in the mind, I contemplate in exact answers, precise manners, for the fulfillment of a question that beckons forgiveness.

And the others withhold experience from me. So that I sit, and stare,

If I could pray, I would pray that you all enjoy your lives. Final, but not ultimate, enjoyment of the self and restlessness.

I shall make for me some natural herb tea, my unquestioning remedy, for what, to me, remains elusive..… a good night’s sleep.

Rock 'n’ Roll kept me up nights until the morning lights of the ne… became battered reminders of accos… that threw itself on my near-awake… Scrreeeeccchhhh! Long, Angry Yel…

You must be you. Truly. Inner truth, intuition, unrepentan… that sings the songs of days for d… I will hear that greatness, let us… Rising to the world,

There’s a little bit of blood on my breathe. My blood, breathing, within vitality

The rain was not refreshing. we waited and waited on those barren, thirsty desert hills. But no rain came.

Winds like giant breaths spoke life into the dead with a chilling verse. This was a night to reanimate

The feeling came again. Love or Lust? Neither I hope, I hate writing of love. It invokes a powerlessness

It’s loud here. Friday darkness, with voices clamoring over the clinking of plates and utensils.

A puff of air internalized in a vacant room. Cows among me chewing the expensive cud that

Lurid music dripping about starts softly then crescendos into something