It is time for poetry to be recognized as a divine gift and the poet as the messenger of Divinity.

Dreams Cannot Live In the Bright of Day
Dreams cannot live in the bright of day.     What the world calls hope is nightbound,     And reaps the whirlwind.     Fast speeds the night;     Fast comes the day.     Fortunes in feeling are squandered in broad daylight.     Moon-tossed dreams of Kate navigate the night.     Though thoughts of you never die,     Fast flies the day;     Fast dies the night.

Thoughts spin softly toward the unsayable Impossible to resist like the city's dark glamour or a wicked woman's kiss
Each turn of her face an eclipse giving birth
Each cigarette a torch held high
Only to have died all gorgeous and sad
As the city and abyss stare each other down

There's a lot that a bird doesn't know, but that doesn't change the fact that the world is happening to her all the same. The course of my life is changing and, without close thought, I wouldn't even see it.

It breaks my heart when you drive away

-  no more let life divide what death can join together                                        


Say farewell Muse measured in seasons of love
O’ gone goddess gifting us unbelief…
Why does heaven have to be so far away?
And such shades of blue that leave no hope of peace?

****** well beyond these last days of mine
Forgotten by my muses and condemned to die
Definition to a spider’s eye
is chaos to a fly

Past the deep Gotham of my eyes --
     The authority of my headache reads
     The graffiti of the prophets -- scribbled
     On the back walls of the train-station:
          
           Commute, work, commute, eat,
           Commute, work, commute, sleep;
           Work  Buy  Die
           And Say AYE-AYE, Sir.

     How many Dear Mr. Heartbreak letters
     Have been etched here -- (I cannot say how many) --
     Deep in the Gotham of my eyes --
     Cold as a city empty of alleys --

     Maybe I'll please the philistines,
     With much talk of good money. I'll study
     Their scriptures about the nonsense of art.
     At last I'll make good --

     I'll finally make them happy.
     I'll try a new part in my hair.
     Maybe I'll put down this pen; stop these letters.
     From now on, I'll express myself in tears.