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The stream (all workshops)

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A Blank Canvas

Take a painter out on a grassy knoll
Out with the easel & brush
Hearts to unfold through the scene
A knowledge of sullen brevity
For he had treasured a red rose that was plucked a time before
A blank canvas then a brush stroke
The cue to summon his next move
Shadows taunt in long lines of division
Such as the pen with paper
An artist knows what there after
It's a special skill that takes some time
A heroic embrace across the Peyton Place

Monster Play...

The rumble of “Plows” in the distance
I don't know where they are
I race to dress, get out there
I gotta move my car!

In mind's ear I hear their laughter
“He doesn't know we're here”
“If you plow him up to windows
I'll buy our nightly beer”

Half awake, I stumble out
Ice-scraper in my hand
Brush the snow from windshield
Open door; I make my stand

They idle with monster breath
Horn trumpets cries of war
“I'll be just a minute guys”
And I don't close my door


'what are you most attached too?'
'attached? now that's an interesting query isn't it'

slips of convection
gravity soars

in the boiler room the gas fire
Heady heats vodka rush
shower steam
mirrors ghost prints appear
like mirage thoughts
emerging from ghost fog


Jin Jin magix

On Life...

Nothing learned is new,
there’s nought we come to know
is useful in life’s game.
Though striving to be true
we’re caught up in the flow,
to end up much the same.

I’ve not imparted much
the slightest feather’s touch,
through trepidation.

Existence a mere sham?
Why therefor think, I am?

Here's To Us

Here's to love.
To friendship. Respect. Compassion.
To family. Perseverance. Strength.
To mistakes. Learning. Moving on.
To dreams.
The ones that got shredded.
The ones still gleaming before us.

Here's to change.
To darkness. Ebony. Frightening.
To light. Exploding. Exhilarating.
To adversity. Weakening. Empowering.
To giving them hell.
The ones who still stand after losing it all.
The ones still humble when they have it all.


The journalists have done their work
Photographers have captured all
Decency has gone berserk
And brought compassion to a crawl

Now newsprint greased in gasoline
Ignites our souls in immolation
And I burn I burn for amnesia
And offer a crumb to salvation

Children march to a famine death
Bodies explode for god’s greed
I cannot think I cannot breathe
I sit and watch and inside bleed

December Doldrums

December doldrums befall each year
With April showers nowhere near
And many a pumpkin scattered 'round
By the welcome of the polar bear

The soil taciturn, a'snooze
My boots have long replaced my shoes
A grey ground squirrel in random bound
And many more of winter clues

The hearth with logs; we light it oft
She's baking apples 'till they're soft
December with its voiceless sound
That resonate across our croft

What I Wished For You

a world without pain
and the sunrise
cast the world in a golden hue.

The laughters of children,
and the smiles that people wear
are not tainted by hypocrisy.

A gust of wind blew
and the leaves on the trees rustles
while the grasses wave in greeting.

All the troubles you have,
cleared away
and we walk together
hand in hand
as brothers and sisters.


Cast iron lamp scavanged
set in the faux wooden barn beams
shellaced a dark tone
Night watches closely the table tableaux
salad bowl of ancient turned wood
stained rich with olive oil
The stereo console...Goo From Sonic Youth
thunders...towering china cabinet filled with
heirloom pieces and modern shines
in the evening din
An old wind up grandfather clock cannot
be heard...a television goes unwatched
in the living room..Lana spins the Wheel
with gusto..

Black Hole Sun

Black Hole Sun

The fresh scent of dew on the morning lawn
Captivated by a smile a hush of alarm
Look up ahead into the light
Light of it's illumination
Darkened spots of dense madness
Instant Karma amidst traveler's plight
The hope to never give up on the fight


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