my dedication
seemed too strange. you
dared at last
believe;
...
wakening from dreams it seems by lyrics that insist
on using or enthusing me to manifest their rhyme;
taking hold my mind the muse moves words to hand and wrist,
as humbly i succomb to this endeavor so sublime.
...
my fingers ache her body to caress
who as of yet lives only in my dreams
a destination, treasure so she seems:
not she, but love she means to me. no less
...
given the past
and the last time i lusted
for touch
it is clear to me now
...
an army garbed in shining black,
six feet to every man.
there might have been one thousand marching
single file across the sand.
...
with the coming of september i'm the one who cries alone
the world will tremble less once i move on
another day, another way to see it like a stone
just tumble down the hillside and be gone.
...
my most beautiful poetry
is about you.
most tragic, most touching, most real!
the feelings spill onto the page
...
Jonathan was rich,
a fact for which
he can't be blamed.
...
ancient collision of long ago continents
forced granite mountains up high, to where heaven is
snow-covered behemoths loom over valleys to
hide mythic land of shambala from common view
...
on day one, i journeyed to pashupatinath where
three holy sadhus requested i join them. there
sitting before them were baskets - three small and two
big ones with woven lids. then one man asked 'are you
...