A phrase on our all brotherhood


Brothers and sisters.
sit inside the lines
and cry behind the bars
of white pearl and ceramic maroon.


Feel it in the forest (a poem)


feel it in the forest.
the green fog.
the levels of paper on the ground floor.
the brown bark rising upward
in straight lines.
curved spines.
the panthers crawl into a hole.;

fix the fortress
with a light
then steal the surroundings.
with the eyes.
and open up the box.
to find the fortress fixed around.
if you cant find it. it might have already been there.
Or have never been.
don’t trust this light thing.
its an apartment of insoluble standing
that disappears.

Best Thing I could have done- short story

best thing I coulda done that day
was walk out.
the banker was swishing her
short hair at me.
dangling her glasses behind her neck.
as soon i shut the metal framed door
the glass shook
and i mistook
a step.
I didn’t fall.
no. I kept walking
after I gained some ground hold.
I knew the day had determined for me
its melancholy miscue.
by the look on that by partisan
and his plaid wool shirt.
he didn’t get the clue.
if i were to give my clue
to anyone…
it would have been him.
(i cant tell you)
but because i did not;
i was distraught.
but i didn’t give him a second glance.
i kept walking.
by the time i reached my car…
an fighter pilot flew overhead.
cutting the air
right out of my breath.
next thing i knew was
i was at the bar.
sitting cross legged on the floor.
and an old crippled black woman knelt beside me.
“care for another tequila?”

What if Blue? -A Poem-

what if i were to tell you?
All of the things it contained?
and blue to you:
(it swamped you.)
but (blue to me it deemed)?
we’d be in another world-
A world where things go one on two.
swamping you and making me blue.
and now the things that come forth:
one situation:
are just the one for two?
would you be some other color?

Our Music within: A Poem-

music: However.
and how much.
Is up to us.
not our epoch.
a hard truth to gather
for most.: However:
then i know at least the turn is of
a polished stone.
blessed to be linked like gossamer
on the trail of the beast
which at least i know!
so quiet and lost.
Music: However
I wait on to know (within!)
(In Music Within I’ll conquer this
lonely desolate home.
such a Surprise within
The Music…
it’ll be
To Find Home!!!)

Stems and Roses- A Poem-

Must I always
bring about the stems
from the roses and
see the thorns
without the roses?
must they always pose
as things i do not know thus
do not ever see?
as if the stems are stinging.
as if the roses are bringing;
and then dropped inside of a pit
to feel the mud in their way?
and get tinted with
the shades of gray
must i always stay
unbridled in the field
to ride the wild flowers
and never have a proper shield?
in the Roses?
Must i always yearn to know the things
I’ll never know of us?
we’re just shadows filtering light.
and its as though
I didn’t know this.
for what good does it do to stop a light?
for things of light that froze us?