I age my poems
in dark musty cellar
'till they mellow and moan
begging to be brought to light

I bury them there
in oaken casks, stained purple
flavoring them full of
funky terroir

Abandoned on a shelf in
old green glass
imprisoned by cork
unlabeled

I age my poems
banished 'till rhyme ripens
in dim hopes one day
they'll tickle someone's tongue

All alone in the world is what we are
The rest is but an illusion the rest is temporary
I look outside the window
Pigeons are picking up crumbs
Just like they did centuries ago
The winged dinosaurs of our time
And I am a dinosaur - too big to fit into a
Comfortable frame
I see too much, feel too much, love too much
Hurt too much, think too much
But I don't mind, let it be
I treasure this truth
It injects life into my veins
Pain gives inspiration
It links me to another
When I dive into their eyes
In search of humanity
And gather pearls on unity
That wrap me up with warmth
Of a thousand hearts
With it I am not afraid
To sease and never be again
And when I look my death
Into her cold empty sockets
I  will praise it for teaching me
To be greatful

A silence with you
Is not
a silence

But a moment rich
with peace