David Whalen Poems

Empty space, time and dimensions
A place Where clocks have no value
and time no meaning
A place in the mind
...

I think I must keep on writing
For if I should stop
I may never
Start again
...

Start with cold, fringed beaches,
Laced with Smoke and fog.
In a cauldron.
Add Cliffs and caverns
...

Fingertips
That brush my lips
That graze across
My closed eyelids
...

I prefer the way
That I’m living…To me every
Day… is Thanksgiving
...