There is an ancient woman
In the market near my home
Who walks the timeless amble
Of a battered soul alone.
Her pasted orange tresses
A marmalade cascade
Fall so stiffly down to where
Her hand is always laid
Clutching her treasure bag
She goes her way careless
Ignoring chiding glances
At her faded evening dress.

Her story hides in rumors
Whispered by those who work
In the shops and restaurants
Here near McArthur Park.
They say she was a movie queen
Or an extra in the silent days
And an accident at the studio
Made her bald unto this day.
She refused to remove the wig
She ran out crying, in costume
And now she is still wearing it
Hoping he will find her soon.

The woman at the pharmacy
Said her hair caught on fire
At a movie in the twenties
Her boss calls her a liar;
Says the leading man did it
In a fit of rage and jealousy
When she wouldn't marry him
He set fire to the scenery.
Others heard that she was fired,
But she wouldn't leave the set
So deep inside her mind
She really hasn't left it yet.

Some have tried to talk to her
But she never speaks that much
Except inquiring prices and colors
Of the goods she chances to touch.
To direct questions and advances
She turns sadly away and leaves.
You can tell she is sensitive
You can tell by her face she grieves.
It is easy to see she is living
In some world that is not ours
Her world seems a place of gloom
Of thunderstorms and showers.

She caresses with her fingertips
Along the banisters she passes
And she seldom lets her gaze linger
Behind her smoked sunglasses.
Her satin dress has faded,
Like the color of her hair.
She still lingers in each moment
When she walks down the stair.
She never seems to notice those
Who stop and goggle at her
And they are many, these gawkers
But they just don’t' seem to matter.

She seems to have accepted
What her life has now become.
She has been coming to the park
For decades more than some.
This may be a playground
For popeyed urban gnomes.
But this is where she shops
This decaying place her home.
This park is very much like her
Many ages past its prime.
The vestiges of past glory
Have not been erased by time.

He lies atop her in the darkness
Passion leaves them beautiful, breathless
A bead of sweat falls from his brow
Following the curve of her arm
Reflecting the light from down the hall
The sparkling droplet catches her eye, she sighs
Bodies entwined, a Lord & his Lady,
Rememberings of a shakespearean dream
Timeless sonnets spun from a golden spire
Their love is a requiem to other worlds
A lost age, all but forgotten
The blood roils in her veins, curling her toes
She meets his gaze and feels her pulse begin to rise
A smile playing on her lips, hand caressing his cheek,
Enflamed by the magic of their desire
They fly on waxen wings
Ever closer toward the heat
Unfettered by proximity
Two hearts make one
Bright and burning like the Sun

I was asked the question
“who do I read”
well, there's nobody special
that's not what I need

am I here to seek pointers
no, not at all
the way that I write
it's not been my call

I simply write down
the words that I'm given
then share them with others
you know, the folks who be livin'

so correct if you must
that's if it makes you feel better
punctuation and spelling
right down to the letter

but I won't be changin'
anytime soon
so I hope you don't mind
I'll keep singin' my tune

being a poet, i live through the words
i transplant emotions i've found
no matter how they think it's absurd
these words keep pouring down

being a human, i'm cursed with these thoughts
what else am i to do?
i write them down to untie the knots
just trying to think it through

being a poet, that's for the birds
i try to sing to the clouds
i set my pain free through my words
the words i can't say out loud

When I did sail across the boundless sea
Through waves and wondrous shores, and wayward winds,
I traveled into earth's philosophy,

And saw the ocean’s daunting thrills,
Its majesty become a living thought—
At nature’s host I did but hardly glimpse.

I only wish to see what beauty wrought,
From shoreless seas to forests, meadows, leas,
And many sights that held me overawed.

That endless dream I now no longer see,
For I’m in glory’s blindness now confined,
And now I pray to once again be free.

When I do close my eyes one final time,
I only wish to dwell in nature’s shrine.