The long rocks of meaning a tumble avalanche thoughts
dulcimer sweet ringed fire
clouds roil on the moors edges black
...
Some fact about poets
they don't always tell the truth
they paint the world as they'd like it
...
Sometimes a soul touches you
from far across the ocean.
sometimes a soul, is soul that is wild and good and free,
...
A poem not read is a poem dead
its dies from the bullets of indifference
a poems not red or blue or green or blackest hue
...
'Mediocre at best.' She says arching her sarcastic brow
'How? ' She asks 'Can a brow be sarcastic.'
'Oh it can I assure you.' I say 'And yes maybe I am a mediocrity
...
You're the villain of this piece,
not the peaceful dreams of last night.
or the piece of silk draped over the bed
we entwined but this is no love story.
...
So the pieces dissipate abstract in raspberry skies, purple clouds,
patterns in the vaults before the pin pricks silver the velvet obsidian skies.
the world turns and we turn and I turn and you turn away.
...
Trailing behind him he made furrows with a sick
ploughing imaginary fields planting Magic beans
became a knight fighting with is trusty sword
prickly hedgerow foes or beanstalk giants
...
Each line dissolves in itself, invisible, divisible, multiple
yet each singular facet is a facet of a facet,
an amalgam of diamond sharp thoughts cutting deep,
excoriating the soul
...