I travelled the Mediterranean coast
when I was young
Such a beautiful landscape
Carefully carved from stone
Castles and cathedrals
Extravagantly designed
The marriage of man and divinity
In a Jubilee ancient time

Unfortunately
The ghost of my ethnicity
No long prevails
If there’s no forest or rivers
I call that hell
I’ll take the winter
I’ll wait for the season to change
Find me not in any city
Nor any kind of desert terrain

Out here is where I’ll stay!

FBI #1 suspect
CIA #2 suspect
Nothing new here.

I  
am a feeble man
with
hopefull thoughts
I
face my gravestone
THINKING
of
dead poets
their words are restless
and
forever out there
seeking
those in need.
There
in
silence
in the still of the sight
I RiP.