It is the journey
The richness of
New experiences
That expand my consciousness
Feeding the creative frenzy
Creating new neural pathways
Improving my mind
And enriching my humanity

They see the circle take the square
Going around round here
Without fear
Cutting corners
Till love cycles back
To there is no white or black
Just humans
Hands by the fire
Hands held all together
Till better angels are inspired
One foot into the coals to forge better metals
And our bond finally becomes
Unbreakable in love

I HOPE THAT YOU ARE WELL - YOU'RE SO POPULAR,
I ENVY TOUR PERSONA AND INFRASTRUCTURE,
DID YOU ENJOY YOUR HOLIDAY AT THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS?
IT COULD NOT BE DIFFICULT WITH YOUR BEDROOM- BROWN EYES:
NO ONE EVER REFUSED IF YOU ASKED THEM TO DANCE,
DESTINY WAS MADE AND IT WASN'T BY ANY CHANCE,
I TOUCHED YOUR LEG ONCE AND YOU SAID I WAS GAY,
I DON'T NEED THAT THANK YOU - I CAN BUY ON E- BAY,
HOWEVER, YOU ARE A VERY GOOD FRIEND MON AMI,
ALBEIT VAIN, CONCEITED, HANDSOME AND DEAR TO ME,
I REMEMBER THAT YOU RODE ONCE ON THE ROOF OF A CAR,
LIFTED YOUR HAT TO SOMEONE AS THOUGH A STAR,
ALL OF THE TEN-PINS SCATTERED WHEN YOU BOWLED A BALL,
I WONDERED IF YOU WOULD EVER MISS ANYTHING AT ALL.

oh, to be young

she kissed me with the entirety of art contained within an unpopular pop-song
utterly graceless in the afternoon.
there was something.
it was not necessarily good

It's too bad
that they exist
as if people weren't
dangerous enough
with just sticks and stones
recall them all as if
they're here
in tiny hands
in determined hands
and in shaky hands
they're here.

we look at TV screens that show
thousands of persecuted and bombed-out families
on the run for safety and sheer survival

so sorry

borders are shuttered now
the boat is full   no more come in
we have to think of ourselves

so sorry

we sincerely regret that you
are suffering from cold and rain and snow
in your rickety makeshift camps

so sorry

we are sure there’s someone
to take care of all that mess

it’s just not us

so sorry

You're graceful
And I know that you say that your shower
curtain is your biggest fan,
but I think I'm slowly becoming
your biggest fan instead.
I bet your voice reflects your soul-
dark
mysterious
tinted glass.
I wrap myself up at night
with thoughts of you.
And maybe I shouldn't be saying this,
but some things are too hopeless
to not be expressed.
You are beautiful in your everyday way of being.
Your language and expression
are artistic,
poetic-
breathtaking;
and I often catch myself thinking of you.
Even when I'm fairly certain,
you're not thinking of me.
I bet the dark countryside is jealous
of your enrapturing beauty,
and I'm sure that when I'm looking at the moon,
I can feel the presence of your soul.
I wait until the sun rises, and I bask in its warmth,
to remind me of the way
you make me feel.