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

now when I say “forever” I don’t mean too

a leaf hoped that the branch would be strong but they were both born from an ol… and those dying roots could only h… until there was no choice

quick to lock ourselves in a prison cell of arrogance incarcerated by our own egos freedom can not happen until we reach through the bars

when the neighbors would bang on t… screaming through them telling him to stop for the love of god it is three in the morning

incredible love making will turn wolves into pups bears, cubs again and icy hearts melt to a puddle

a best friend to kings faith substitutes for justice god will keep us poor

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

she passes a man but her scent is the full moon and a wolf follows

still he saws at the legs of his Steinway old habits only die hard so he tickles the ivory cigarette hanging from his lips

i used to go to Gramma’s every Sunday evening we would order pizza watch whatever shows we could agree on

when the rest of the world seemed… and the invisibility of god was to… i turned to a puppet a stuffed brown dog i had named Gr… i confided in him earnestly

the lavish liberty of lust unbound in the salacity of self a lover may take too long or doesn’t take long enough a lover may manipulate you

after nineteen years she thinks of him as a fart something to air out

the darker the room the more I needed her she was scented with tobacco and cedar