I have been
nothing before
and while I prefer
to be something
to you
zero
is a perfect circle
the beginning
the end
one seamless strand
made whole

.

*I have written a dozen messages now
(probably more, no definitely more)
I word each one as carefully as I can,
telling you how much I miss you,
how lonely my days have been,
how I am doing ok (not really)
and I hope you are too,  
only to get to the bottom, the final line,
and typing out, I...well you know,
then stare at the screen and
think about it for a few minutes
before hitting delete…

wishing each time I did
it was me that disappeared

Whenever I feel sad, I blow things up in video game land.
Because everything and anything that I built there, can be rebuilt.
I can fix everything in the screen that I hurt or broke.
But I can't fix how you probably think what we had was just a joke.

cloudy days suit
no pressure to be happy
out and about
a hermit poets preferred disposition
happily at the composing
loving the weather

Nha Trang, Vietnam, 1972

Darkened portal. Room of shadows. A haze of ***.
Hard vision of *** and combat. Mixed up. Dream.
Young girl smiles outside a Nha Trang bordello.
Smile of innocence in a land of evil. Unreal.
Whose need rejects this process? Transaction of lust.
She removes her *ao dai like lifting fog. Naked.
Mortars fall as we writhe. Danger is my business.
Harder and faster like a rocket barrage. Deep.
Kick of a 12 gauge pump. Flesh explosions.
****** ***** out your breath. So does this.
War and *******. Extinction and lust. The same.
****** a moment from the blood and tears.
All is burning. Cling to any possible refuge.
     Bound together in this instant of life;
     Completing ourselves in this world of death.

Hey mister, can you spare me a dime
or maybe just a moment of your time
I hate to admit, I'm a starving artist
maybe my choices aren't the smartest

it seems senseless starving for art
artistic integrity plays a big part
parting my ways seems so hard
hardest part is silencing my heart

hey mister, can I sell you a rhyme
it might mean something over some time
I'm proud to admit I'm a starving artist
even though these days are the hardest

The afternoon rolls in
vast summers sky across the sea
salt air breezing through
your small bungalow windows
squat quaint abode nestled
a tiny shelter shell
like hermit ***** down the shore
snuggled in.

If I could paint one picture, what our love meant to me.
I'd paint such a masterpiece, where sunset meets the sea.
Splashing vibrant colors, reds mixed in with blues.
Combining orange and yellows, all soaking in for you.
The painting placed in lovely frame, would hang and last forever.
But unlike such a special piece, we wouldn't stay together.
Each night the sun and ocean meet, once more they become one.
Our love however didn't last, the dreams had come undone.
The painting will then forever be, a remembrance of me and you.
Of how we couldn't harmonize, as a sun and ocean do.