Cool avarice?
Soaking in tears...
Braced for, secret chances
With the voice, of what had's, fears

Dread, I know thee
Thy skill, in what fetters
Weighed, instructed, and being...
Cope in failed dawns, of subtle father's...?

A wait, of causes surprise
Totals of anarchy, final austerity
Rests in the hands, of what where why's
Seem the poise, of when asking is a vanity?

King Avarice
Have you a knot, for alienation's shoe?!
So sweet a press, for what is...
A callous care in beauty's hands, the past dreamt is, due

Why the change of day?
Into the step forward, with untoward death?
Done to purpose, in the voice of why a sense of a ley
Is here, is a worldly wish, to bare your anxiety's dread?

To be a poet,
Is to constantly battle your greatest enemy,
Yourself.
If your mind is not your greatest adversary,
You'll never feel freedom in what you write,
Because if you didn't battle for the thought,
You didn't win it's right.

So many women
have tried to change you

she said with her head
on my shoulder

as rain pellets battered
the windshield

and red-orange strips
of celluloid

flashed in my mind
jumpy jittery

but beautiful
nonetheless