We are the fringe people
The last white hopes down on a street...

There is a poet in chains, inside of me
Pain and burning emotions make good lines...

when I walk around I know I am not the only one
to see what is happening in real time...

the “I” in me!
I find myself writing these poems...

”In God I trust...

It all goes on between the lines
Hidden in plain sight...

sabbatical nagging at my brain
nine to five burns up space, cauterizing,numbs...

I attempt to heal with verse
lyrics that never fade for me...

When time is measured in terms of ‘speed of...
We enter another realm of reality...

Life’s a series of crossroads!
Foot of the mountain stuff until my end...

Hello my dawn filled world
Dove grey clouds sprinkled across my sky...

A little morning dew
A drink for a grasshopper or two...