i entered into my junior high poet… with such a sense of excitement to share the craft that i had disc… just a couple years earlier a craft that my gramma had

visceral were the nights we stood… each of us armed with an instrumen… and hearts that beat like tempos we put on a show but we weren’t put-ons

a foot wants the ground take each step with gratitude to walk is to live

he does not to leave the vine out of any loathing for his kin he simply can not stay waiting around to turn to raisin knowing that out there somewhere

slippery bars make it hard to hold… captive against your will always lathered in the sweat of es… you elude any sentence

sipping cocktails in a dark corner… lit with cigarettes and neon we edged ourselves closer to the end of our stools to the end of our drinks

she broke up with him because he broke her oscillating f… on a 107 degree day in the Texas s… with one angry punch he destroyed the fan

he remembers the grapes as they would vine through his blo… like galaxies looking for a home welcomed with a kiss from his alwa… stars tickled his heart

i expose myself a show boat and a show pony i suppose myself a poet

dying to stay in tune they rattle eagerly to play one last song

it burned slow as i sat in front of a mirror listening to overplayed psychedeli… music from the 60's it was the first time i ever smoke…

at odds with the sky I have rid myself of every feather and with my beak i have chewed off… of my wings if i am to see my dreams die

there is a man i have never met too often on my thoughts a woman for whose thoughts i have had to c… against other men

illuminated with the yellowish-ora… parked alone now waiting to be driven away by the last man at the office dedicated to his job