In a senseless
Explosion of
Sound, you are
Reduced to a
Crawling thing
On the margins of
A disintegrating
World with a
Lush numbness
And peace that
Lulls the mind
Making death
Seem so easy

a small dragonfly
skims the lazy afternoon
blue on white lillies

It's a quiet day.

I'm standing at the window --


contemplating rain.

The civilization of
poets has thinned out.
There's a drought of
metaphors and symbolism.
We are all prisoners in
a musty attic.
Where is Emily when
you need her?
I'm afraid they've gone
the way of the graveyard.
Too much ***** and
too many broken hearts.

Where have all the
painters gone?
Sunk deep in
cobalt blue.
Artists resurrect!
Come out and play.
These are days full
of sumptuous sunrises,
and nights laden with neon.
I long for those
Jagged edges and brush strokes
that bleed pain and love.

Art changes our world.
It makes the brutality
bearable.
The smell of paint and old
books, transport us to
a gentle place laced with
ambrosia that we all
should drink.

Finding little Beauty in his world he thought
Like Jason and the Argonauts

"I'll build myself a mighty Ship with words
And out of the best parts of myself select a Crew

Then we'll set sail on the Seas of Rhyme
To the Ends of the Earth if need be

We'll bring back Beauty's Crown
To heal ourselves... and the world too".