Poetry becomes
us when we swallow the whole...
I've seen the most noble man turn to a tyrant...
Black feathers remain grounded
over petals, horizons are camouflaged...
A clot of words
A fist of eyes...
a cloud opened its
vein all over my washing...
Deep down, an obituary
burns within a flowery...
Like a seed
unfolding the flower...
You get mad right?
You have times when your sad at night...
Depression consists
of fuzzy blankets wrapped in...
as today yields to the morrow
it's hope shall curb our sorrow...
To dream is to have inspiration
to feel is a reason...
No, I don't need these eyeballs
The Good Lord has given me...