Hopeless romantic, grounded realist, eternal optimist, brooding pessimist. All these are me. I am all of them, and then some more. Here you will find some of my poetry written between 1985 and 1999, a period when my idealism and abstraction topped the pressures of reality and sustenance.
Shall we go like innocents with heavy breathing in the pool of blood to find the inner-connectivity of a boldly beautiful death? In the open pit of an ancient gold mine? There was a loss of hidden dance, in the
I remember the day that they stopped the clock, The day they told me your time had been bought, “We’ll make him comfortable”…those dreaded words, If there’s a “comfortable” way to die it’s absurd! I’d armed myself with so many
An old boar squirrel has made a home in the tall skinny house across the street. he must think himself lucky to have the space. I watch him build his treasury on the jade kitchen linoleum dark nuts arranged like