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it comes as no suprise.

often ill they die.



it is the way.

it is not sad.



we are sensed

with  loss.



that includes you.

no more.
In the early morning fuzz, a smoky inhale of life
the lamppost is lit and the trees are just waking up
Five Forty Two Am: the eyes of the sky are grayly
I hold my stave high as I begin my very first poem  

Bushes and creeks containing tiny quakes of light
piercing through a silent heaven, I feel alright
Sleeping in the room next door he is unaware
of the awakened altered state that claims me

Down the path of memories I go alone and safe
standing behind a closed window, vouchsafe !
Smoke blankets the city on this Friday morning
I can't touch the fire, I am only its town crier

as I write about the residue of the wildfires,  
                I can see the peeling back of its slight
                                 and know instinctively,
                                          It is daylight....
Waiting for something that never comes
                    In my solitude
                           Sigh...
Bowing to the ***** god,
I lived like a pleasure
seeking missile, propelled
toward all things ME.
Empty as a carcass.
Hungry as a desert.
I didn't see the
strawberry moon of
summer.
It was me and the
Ferryman, until the
river ran dry.
Eternal winter for
the soul.

And then

A revolution in my
being.
A total shift in
my values and
perception.
The Creator purchased
my dilapidated heart.
He moved in and lives
there still.

My home, on the outside
might look like
a shack to some, but inside
it's a mansion with the
most sublime bread you
ever tasted.
Fruit trees in every room.
Here is a link to my latest YouTube poetry reading.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7tpMDoNXg_U
My books are available on Amazon.  They are Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems, It's Just a Hop, Skip, and a Jump to the Madhouse, and my latest book, Sleep Always Calls
The moon trails behind,
a pale guardian on high
chasing fleeting feet.

I think wonder is the moon’s favorite language—and children are fluent. 🌙✨
Wee
A flickering street lamp
Fedora and a black thin tie

that's all I get in my
dreams

an occasional shot glass
filled with perfect cubes

and a splash of something
dark to drink

maybe
For Frank
So many places
that I wanted to see.
I traced new paths on the maps,
softly, with my hands.

Certain journeys were never taken.
I will keep them in my memory.

I looked for the lost keys,
and I saved the never-bought tickets
in small boxes of my heart.

I smile at the happier people
through colored glasses,
held to my eyes.

This is my eternity closed into moments.

Walking alone by the Tiber’s side,
I entered the antiquarian bookstore,
finding synchronic sentences,
small insights,
and I came back with relief.

To my home—to myself.
Without excuses,
without doubts,
without fears.

Writing my song of the world
that flows through me.
The old reality transformed
into a new technological skin.

Now, when I open my window,
I breathe the scent of jasmine.
The rain after the storm is so calming.

I see my solitude chosen,
my friend,
my tender companion.

Being with her,
I am present
with all my senses.

Now,
the one who remains.
The only one.
I'm a beat up old dog.
My name is just Bill.
I think I'm 76 in your years.
I have stories ugly still.
I know cruelty and kindness.
I've had good luck and bad.
I've been with lovely *******
and some lost in eternal sad.
I'm just a bother in the way
they want to put me down
limping each painful day
hold me under 'til I drown.
think i heard a night jar

up the valley here.

it was a quiet night except

for that.

we have the window open now.
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