(2014)
Weep for the fallen warriors. Weep for those souls considered collateral damage. Weep for the profiteers. Weep for the deserters.
Your unexpected words of kindness fell upon this desert dweller’s arid heart
The storm is brewing. I smell it in the air. I am panicking. I fear this tempest might cost my life.
I have suffered much while upon this earth, so aching to belong. To whom, or what, or why?
I met a man who told me that he’s looking for the way he might become more free, less encumbered in his life. Poor me, poor me, poor me;
Everything he has ever been taught alerts him to avert that dancing f… What is it then that demands he mu… proceed towards his certain fiery… Some deep and ancient voice within
It’s only you that I can trust to hear these words as true. Those I know seem blinded by some notion or another about me. You are my closest confidant
These words are crude utensils, with which to touch you, and be touched;
Look out there, see them, boy ? They want yer juice. They’re dry, them circlin’ desert… All they want's yer juice, boy.
No words of wisdom. No clever rhymes. Not this day. Something heavy weighs me down.
Late at night; another helter-skelter day, having flown off unexpectedly into alien domains of disarray. So many urgent moments
My father has come to dinner; He does not knock. He is not welcome. He is dead. Yet he insists on joining me
The old priest gazes out upon his… each head bowed before the sacred… A scarred and broken bodied warrio… seeking inner peace and final abso… An elderly wealthy man of commerce…
That blue-gray rainy day, the blue-gray funeral parlor. There you were laid out in blue and gray. So still.
You think you know me, that figment dancing in your mind’… You think you understand me, that puppet dangling from imaginar… You believe you know what’s best f…