He played on the guitar like a pizzicato
Who frequented one too many bars
Always demonstrating
A wonderful amount of restraint
...
Where have they gone
Though no longer here
Their faces float by
As I remember them
...
I love the touch of your breath
In the cold morning light
And the way your bedroom eyes
Look into my sleeping soul
...
There is no land for me to stand
No angels left to sing
The stars that once had filled the sky
Have flown and taken wing
...
She was a dancer
But now at age sixty seven
During the day
Her ghost leads small groups
...
She has become
Like a thin Chinese tea cup
Placed upon a large rock
She has become… fragile
...
Spring
I can't take my eyes off of you
As you carry your beauty about
...
When I am gone
Who will read my words to you?
All the poems about you
That I have put to paper
...
I can't remember
What my mother looked like
That was so long ago
In a time of chasing butterfly's
...
SUMMER
The old motor struggled
Against a none existent breeze
...