Biography of johnny case
I was born into a musical family and music has been the dominant factor in my life as long as I can recall. Yet the creative impulse itself has always been the driving force in my every endeavor, whether it is playing piano, painting in oils, or writing poetry and vignettes. To compose a poem is, for me, just another way of making music.
johnny case Poems
The huge corsage of mums Was a cruel joke The senior boys pinned on Glori who nevertheless
Have No Fear
if one of us survives the other
Still Lost: The Found Memo
Lambs in limbo kneel before a graze. I place your curtsy at stone eyestops. menace Sliding with amorphous sheen
Time Out To Acknowledge Or Confess The F...
My lyrics are parasites... feeding on forgetful hummingbird word droppings
Once again solace will host the county fair. I arrive to find my mother and father are there. It is evening. The lights anticipate The darkness yet to come.
The Mute Left...No Found Notebook
while he was here he did not speak. did not we think he could not speak?
I Stay By The Wayside
Plague Of Paris
found this prologue in a teardrop lying at my feet not far from last night's maimed by paris texas - a town long mired in its own inane
Review of 'Last Nites' Brings Newly Awakened Realization
Return To (The Other) Me
Villages aflame unto when's due newspaper trader Zone out-wake all issues to cry a heart flora sand Adolescent snares naysaken 'neath colors Shaved from moon murders done
My Summer Reading List
reveals i'm afraid that i'm crazy about one author BOOK TITLES:
First Set: An Undone Mundane
One native son rose in northeast Texas enduring Seasons of sun and rain where our concurrent Lives tread nurturing untold paths led heartward Amidst small towns and boundless plains
The distant sea reaches us here A tide of will to mane every call Feeding search-mates to the tree branches So no voice knows the air it moves thru hair
Carriage For Dream Words
Slumber lines sway baskets dropping omens stalking
Dark alleys into doorways of decay that flick ticks
And tocks from clocks, and slap still wristwatch hands...
Immobile stranded moment-in-time wears out the chair
In destiny's waiting room cloaked in linens discarded
By death, amorous always, plotting a tryst for each
Split second, leaving what's left further than ever with me...