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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.
~
Enter the lair

Of a cloudless grenadine

Misty branches of sun

On the outer marker

And in their place

A strawberry moon

~
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