It was a mountain you thought to be climbed it was then and then it was gone an idea of this and that became a without it was a river to cross shallow and swift the vision became clear by putting the best parts forward it was a sound playing over and over long before … More CLOSE BY
I am a prisoner of dreams. My thoughts, stripped from time, drift me into shadowed corners. The gray and white melt from day, opening at night where eyes are teased by desert spirits. The rocks of memories are filled with ancient colors. Rivers pull at me, oceans lick my ankles. My voice is underwater, agonizing … More UNDERWATER
There was an unwillingness of movement. A stretch like tree tops in a tempest. A few indistinguishable words slipped clumsily into the air. The visions were intangible; the ones you think you touch but fail to feel. It was a spirit dream, a celebration of aesthetics. A temporary creation of interior thoughts like running … More OPEN UP
Dreams are fragrances, reminding us to remember the vision, the voice departed, the place of youth no longer visited; the person we were, but have changed. Regrets are long. Promises become minced oaths and lies hurt us the most. Attempts to make the right from the wrongs are absorbed each day; rumbling of … More CIRCLES
There is a vision inside of everyone. A vision of something distant from reality, yet persistent, attempting to create belief. A flash of honey sweetens the dreams that we hide in our pillows. Stories tightly wrapped in linen. A fresh song or story taps its way to the surface, turning over the stone of … More NIGHT TRAVELER
I see visions of tomorrow. Clubs with open doors, red seats and low smoky lights; melting drinks and bowls of peanuts. Freight trains rumble by with freeloaders hanging on as winds rustle their shirts and jackets and hair without hats. Fast talking and slow moving salesmen hawk everything, especially what they don’t own. Kids … More NEVER FAILS
He leans back against a brick wall on a three legged chair playing the harmonica. Angels pause at the sound. Traffic passes unnoticed. The sound is gold in his mind. He thinks of words despite detractions. There is an overpass of thin weaving clouds. The sun warms his hands. Pigeons rustle their wings with feathered … More STEADFAST
The sidewalk is a stream, a playground, an escape without arrows to point the way out. Fallen stars, the scattering of dreamers believing in second chances, light the city at night. Children remain close by, guarded by the fences of stern warnings. Their visions asleep as they accept the ideas of less. Surrounding aromas are … More NOT FAR FROM HERE
An overhead subway creeps between brownstones. Sharp shadows like falling venetian blinds cut across the moving cars. From the street below steam pipes belch gray mists. Visions of the city become abstracts of other visions; seldom is there a clear choice. Late night diners with doors open and tables full of lively hand conversations, … More WASHED OVER
There is a circle of growth, a watering of slumber, as the eyes retreat to the outlands of shadows where incoming messages open to hallways of sleep. We are captured in the snare of unknown vapors. Feet move. Hands reach. We respond with half words to voices at the backdoor of our thoughts. We twitch … More SOMEPLACE
