(2013)
Burned flesh in the nostrils, napalm nightmare haunting the brain, destroys the rhythm of life.
haiku are headlines reporting mother nature the insight stories
dropplets, dropping down, sinking slowly in soil are Mother’s helpers.
The archer aims, hoping it is true. The arrow flies. Is the eye hit new?
Work defines the bee? Hives shoul… But entries belong on pages. Companies write mission memos. Souls pen living stages.
end of long trip around the solar system– finished the book
I huffed my ego, by pouring me into it– She popped my balloon.
Once we had a happy planet with apogees and perigees.
YOU and are not us.
Snow melts. Waterfalls streaming rivulets off roofs slake the thirsty ground.
Monsters under our beds are phantoms in our heads. Gurus shout such ghosts at our ear… and fears.
He pretends to be a hard boiled eg… He actually has a soft yolk. Sometimes, when he acts tough, he is secretly fluid. If you get to know him, he removes
zombie scientist starves while doing his research humane substitutes
Broken by the vampires who suck life from souls with minimums that keep tires spinning in muck.
sky shapeshifters take infinite forms on the azure canvas.
