poetry

I write because no one hears me speak Of course, then no one reads it But me Over and over...

The acropolis is an apocalypse What pain do I choose to endure? Happiness emerges from struggle But it should be...

Cool water— cool breezes — my life eases Bird songs— the whispering palm— lift me from the throng Familiar smiles—...

Looking for the planet Vulcan The idea, like Icarus, flew too close to the Sun Wanting something to be true...

Heaven is, to Betsy Every day, here and now Not some distant imaginary place Not some promised goodness later But...

The basement window Is the best doorway In any aspect of life Coming and going through a buzzing membrane the...