I think
as artists
we owe a lot to pain.

Put on
a robe of thorns
and write

about the nice weather outside
and that delicious burger
you had today.

Write about happiness
when you're in pain-
beauty.

"The Visionary"



He is never where they look
Unless by accident they pierce him
The communal streets are crowded with the dominant pattern
Happy happy as real as it can possibly be
He is not there with them set in time and lock step
Curiouser than stubble on a young girls cheek
Like **** of a boar hog
Not able to leap anything
Just a drop in the bucket
The bucket in the ocean
And its ocean all the way down