Wednesday, November 25, 2009


roused. simper.

silently aware. gray tones of late dawn. the poor man's dove calls out.

an acknowledging breath. sore. soar. a modest tenderness.

lyrical tones of cigarettes and vermouth loiter on lobes and lips.

bare. a shared point. green is not vain.

beside besides, besides, besides (searching).

a path of cognitive discernment.

the spirit swells. quintessence.

the remains of their tenderhearted coil softly disseminate.

and so she and him came to be. a strange romance.

entwined. au fait.

the first drops of sentimental flooding.

Strigiformes behind the curtain all along.


  1. What makes you write these?
    A muse beyond yourself?

  2. I'd like to hear what you think is the answer?

  3. Would I have asked if I knew? I assume poets are poets with reasons varied. I asked amiss so I will ask again:
    Clearly you are an observer of people, noting the unnoted. My question is this: You watch someone. A stranger. And I say to you - go on then, write. Could you just capture any person, or any moment? If you say yes, then you are your own muse. Not so? If you say no, then you are not.