with a poem in my heart,
and wine in my belly...
art is the deliberate undertaking of
mining the unconscious to a...
Heaven! Heaven! Where are you?
I searched for you in dreams I dreamt...
I never wanted much, I never do.
I barely ask for anything at 24 years old...
I've worn holes in my slippers
for all the times these feet have...
I used to have dreams
about you, you know...
These roads are eloquent
in every inarticulate turn...
I've been
counting...
Diminishing in transcendence,
perpetuating in deficiencies...
Chills tapped on his spine
as the street light flickered...
I can't sleep at night
with a warmonger...
Can everything return to what it was
And freeze in place until I catch my breath...