Hopeless romantic, grounded realist, eternal optimist, brooding pessimist. All these are me. I am all of them. When I referenced my diaries for poems written decades (1985-99) ago, I was surprised to find that most related to either Love or Death. I was even more surprised to discover that, with a quick change here and there, many of them could be interchanged to reflect either. It was in this way that I discovered in myself the obsession that Sigmund Freud labelled as Eros and Thanatos, a theme that has fascinated thinkers, poets and writers for centuries. Here you will find Eros and Thanatos and a bit of Philos in between.
In the soul of the city, the four wheels, the scream for pity. Mercy screamed louder than her voice. Little girls sleeping promised with their toys. Not even one, the strong, the brave, the soldier, the slave. No one could
Page 1. the celebrated sailing frog from Montgomery County went a court’n, or so the tale iz toad to a grand ole mansion built around 1910, and e’en ‘pon being razed ~2012 ah no dummy sea worthiness still plainly showed,
Civil war: Again you are visiting the childhood.A green pond. Smoke filled eyes ask, what was a home? A black city of white hills. You were climbing on dreams to reach a baby moon. And the night was very long,