Poetry becomes
us when we swallow the whole...
that’s not where I parked
Opening the door, I found...
Look at that baby, what a fool,
We all have fun at free-time, it practically...
A few cats and some tramps, no one is wandering...
nor music, nor shouting, even a slight noise can...
A clot of words
A fist of eyes...
a cloud opened its
vein all over my washing...
Like a seed
unfolding the flower...
as money piles burned
a need to make more made me...
This is corporate jewelry.
The wealthy elderly woman weeping...
You get mad right?
You have times when your sad at night...
as today yields to the morrow
it's hope shall curb our sorrow...
To dream is to have inspiration
to feel is a reason...