IN THE MOVE

A felt hat. A round angel wing molded from seasons. Warming the think machine while wandering the town in winter from rains and frost on the jacket borrowed from a clothesline in an alley where last night’s party revelers slept through a midnight rain while some searched for fame and dreams beyond the fingertips beneath … More IN THE MOVE

INTO THE CENTER

Back roads of dust break into my dreams, dividing me. I fall into waters of the past; temporary ground with shallow allotments of time. Like ships running aground, I relive fleeting sections of thoughts wrapped in vines of voices. It’s all a stage of featured impulses holding center court, like lyrical messages on the shorelines … More INTO THE CENTER