Some poems seem to write
themselves;
I just move the pen.
Others, are like lumps
of clay;
they refuse to be molded;
they need moisture and time.
This one is like
a robin that just learned
to use its wings.
It heads west, on a
gentle breeze, into
a tangerine sky.

Rolling down the hill;
playing in the grass again.
The future becomes the
past like a strangler of
the night.
My fight comes
and goes, I'm no
longer young.
My storage of strength
seems to have
came and went.
And then like
heaven sent, this woman
shows up at my door.
Nowhere to go, lonely like
so many before.
But unlike the others,
within an hour, she says,
"Let's ****; let me **** on it."
And full disclosure, I'm afraid.
My younger self would
have went at it like a
Tom cat.
I said, "slow down, I don't
even know your name."
She says, It's Jenny are we going to
**** or what?"

I dreamed I was at some sort
Of carnival/expo with my
sister and my ex.
Somehow I got separated
from them
I met a young French woman.
She was beautiful, and she
Liked me a lot.
There was a lot
of passion and an instant
connection.
I had cuts all over my
face for some reason.
She liked me anyway.
In fact, she didn't even
mention the cuts.
The attraction was strong.
There was a heat I
could smell.
We started making out,
and we were just
getting ready to do it,
when we noticed a
large crowd behind us.
We laughed, and she wrote
her information on my
hand.
Later, I was playing
with a bear, and some other
strange animal.
I fell in a river, and her
phone number and address
were washed off my hand.
I never did find my
sister and the ex.
I woke up, and felt
Sick to my stomach.
Why are all the
good ones in dreams?
I need to visit France.

The blue sky cuts
the woman to shreds
Sunflower saves her
from extinction.
Mountains want to crumble
with her into the lake,
but they can't,
they are strong, and
they have their place.
Time has got her,
she just doesn't know it

Once I began to get heathy,
I cut out all the junk food,
and saturated fats.
No more bacon and eggs for me.
I added fruits and vegetables
to my diet.
I exercise, and I pound
****** Mary's  from 6 am to noon.
The tomato juice is very healthy.

I'm just a lonely
wanderer;
a vagrant out at sea.
My vagabond spirit
knows home is where
I need to be.

Through the fog,
I can't see you.
I'm as blind as I can be.
You're my lighthouse in the darkness,
and your heart is where I long to be.

There, in the
tide pool, dappled by
the sun, is birth and death,
and the spark that continues.
It leaves mankind in a wake of regret.
What have I to do with the albatross
Or sea lion?
I can but write, while they fly and roar.
I gaze upon the Pacific from this rock,
all its mysteries and grandeur.
I am inferior, while it forever reigns with
every wave and break of light.