Who needs dreams to tell us
what we already known
A bunch of big fat loser
with big fat pots of gold

We are either living in some past
or waiting on some future
Addicted to destruction
Mother Earth abusers

Dreams are the confession of the soul,
now just let them go!

In the blind spot
of the transparency of soul
it seems I know more then I know.
I possess the answers
the cures of dis-ease
It’s been there all along
creative energy!

Solomon indulged
In the witchcraft of poetry
The magical rites of nature
He broke the yoke
Of wasted hopes
And became a woman chaser

Words form spells
The seeds of dreams
Dark verse light
The earliest memes
Songs of songs
Building grace
Magic is attainable
In the Poet's case
..........................

raw April morn,
daffodils be looking
prematurely silly,

now a May morn,
daffodils no more,
irises blooming

though May itself
a hybrid of twixt
and cousin tween,
coldish morns,
summer afternoons,
evening gusts
winter reminders

yesterday, walked
50 blocks in 80+
Farenhot, sweaty much
and hypocrisy
now reigning,
oh my summer man
you your self,
selfishly forgot,
forgot the other side
of the coin, thinking
hot hot hot Not,
cranky old codger man,
yup, yup, yup.

Into sky
Synthetic sky
Into cloudless recesses of
Artificial sun

Help me lift it up

Tubercular layers
And acetylene light
Below I sleep in a spiderweb
Where scavenger's reign

By design
Delicate
Intricate
Singularity
Worn for a vow
Worn as a shroud
Our night is falling

I come and stand
At every door
Next to manufactured girls

Hoping to lift you up

The ghosts they draw
On my back
Want no light to shine

And so I must
Leave it behind
For the man coming after me