a funny thing about poetry is that you can paint any mask with color and hue, of your choosi… weather belief or doubt or dare will some times make you stare
the pieces fitting together the fear crowded out with truth flowing and emotions poured out can understand how the
when the seed turns to dust and we can only lust after the thoughts of the beginning to only find the end
hidden emotions brakes the soul rips and tears remain effecting the physical and making it decay
as i place my hand in yours and we manipulate the dance floor at the museum the people stop
she set the easel up steadying the back leg with an old glue tube while raising up in her chair she spots it, there it was,
until now when the understanding is felt while sifting fingers through freshly plowed dirt
as the hearts truth was once told on gray with red letters to match the blood spilt from it’s top, with the cap
most definitely worth gazing into and holding on as the water pours… trying to flood the soul of the wh… the warm rays embarrassing as if t… going deep as if searching the oce…
the tales find words in them the weepings from the finger print… speak through words UN-know little smears of oil mixed with du… pressed down in ink, some would sa…
it don’t take long for a yo-yo to… like me up and down all in the sam… how could it be, where does to it… the steel beams inside are like je… the stead fast feet slipping all a…
the understanding can be had as we sleep at night may we play in that land the land of spirits
while registering to buy Italy your mistaken identity diminished wrapped around and covered with banana peels and egg shells castings smell and then you sell
playing the notes as if they were lines fa so la so mi maybe missing a note, or off course for awhile
the rabbit left no ladder the climb –of no way no bounce of the mushroom no tear in the ear will help –end this sway