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The stream (all workshops)

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Pot Luck Freak

one in the 879 episode...,
polish the fence
to the Amish rent
episode in how I seek
parade in the pierce so deep
an ear full an eye so dull
onto the mint episode
Writer as ther poet saving space...
kiss my lips there tender smith
their spark within clean cut with out
lot to behold onto a different episode
Twin midgets to expose
Carnal words to create,
turn on the switch
lerap to charm the rice will float
203 879 2238..,
seerk soalce to a nearby chin


It is half past five and all have arrived
dressed in finery of every kind; I see
emerald greens, and sapphire blues,
white diamonds, and opal gossamer creams,
iridescent teals with mat black hats,
that flow like the cocktails do.
They are bejeweled with gold trinkets
with a flurry of purple, reds, and pinks
that splatter their faces to masks.
These lovely old birds now relax and unwind
and speak through their tiny pointed, pinched lips
a chitter, a chatter with a high pitched flatter

Reading a book

If everyone was reading a book right now
How quiet it would be
The deluge of skin-flakes
Our shorted-out bodies
Whirling without a gunshot
The flaccid wonder of us
The hundreds-and-thousands of our eyes

Thanks Again Mom...

My mom thanked me for coming
I told her it's my honor
I don't get there often
But, she knows I love her

Grandkids and great grandkids
Coming through the door
My sisters and my nieces
Her room can't hold much more

I see her through old eyes myself
I'm pushing seventy-one
Remembering when she was spry
Still dancing, having fun

She taught me how to Jitterbug
Do a Charleston step or two
How to treat a lady
And when dating what to do


the night disappears
without a touch
and your eyes stare like boiling heavens

you are monster kisses I can crawl up to
lips blood clot cake
that never heal
it rains howling phantasms, concrete
and dead eye bombs
nightingales of tragedy

this is my dream of the world
her form a moving mouth
she fills it
with a billion slums like black flowers
vast and strange

your sin
you were born clueless
broken chromes
and die that way too

Dark Angel ...

Poets first poems
This is an early piece from almost 20 years ago - rip it to bits (please)

You came to me you had the key
unlocked the fastened door;
I could not see the destiny
that lay upon my shore.
Your touch so sweet made me complete
you filled me to the core.
Angel, my Sweet Angel
you’ve been this way before?


I lay my head down late at night
after an exhausting day
then turn off the bedside light.
I'm too tired to even pray.

Thoughts keep racing through my mind,
memories of the day just passed,
muscles refuse to unwind.
Old aches assail me from the past.

My tossing wakens her from sleep
and she asks if I'm alright
as the clock hands slowly creep
in the wee hours of this night.

The Story of Her

The Story of Her…
the child knew them
round and real
red tempers caustic
hot searing tongues
sharp metal words
flashing gnashing
colliding crashing
she felt their scorn
and watched it castrate
all her dreams and
natural senses
with physician precision
until far too late
there was nothing left
but the fractured fate
of her childhood lost
time and space
has changed her place
she can see them now
like etchings flat
and frozen blue
they cannot move

To Conquer Fear/ May Contest

I feel sick….Not nauseous, or ill….. just sick
Obsessed with perception and depressed from deception
Mind games…. Mortality…. Morality…. Out of control
Unable to just chill…. And just roll with it
I’m thinking too much… out of touch… out of sync
Head full of bad wiring… I just sit here and blink….
Why can’t I just deal with shit, why can’t I rise up?
To conquer my lunacy, and stand up… JUST FUCKING STAND UP!!!
The fear is paralyzing, and I wish I could shrink
Into something less OBVIOUS, something much less distinct

Conversations with The Universe

Greetings all... I feel this is unfinished and maybe a little long-winded... I also seem to always overlook at least one grammatical error, regardless of my diligence...

Conversations with The Universe

She tried

time and time again

to navigate to her-self.

… walking the dreamscape reaches

of soul-visions

quickening of the senses

as she attempted

to decipher

the eclectic elements of her inner truth…

… awakening via conversations with the universe;


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