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Oh, what I miss most
is the closeness and
touch of a human hand.
A simple thing, one we
normally take for granted,
like my grandchildren's arms
around my neck. Handshakes
or hugs in greetings or farewells
with friends, all taken for granted
for years, lost to us for now,
but will eventually return.
months do not diminish my

you ask brave questions
and are answered in
works harvested
my fields


you went away to fall in love!



a course correction?

I’m a-live in New York City,
where almost 800 persons die each day.

my perspectives have altered.

what are your questions now?
when we breakup it will be over
*** and money, and
cloudy tummy overcast days sans sun

my depression, my quickness to anger
at the too man(y) ******* in this world,
the 100% surety of her long held opinions,
but none of these be the pea, the osprey feather

be the breaking point

it will come when I smash her Apple
Watch and EarPods
which are a volcano between us
killing the spontaneity, the ramblings of lovers conversing,
  Sep 2019 pitch black god8
Still Crazy
never made it past my bed
never made it past my head
never got past pj's
ennobled by a ditty bathrobe
making ditty poems from within
a tequila shot hungry hangover

just past noon,
day halved, brain salved,
with leftover
breakfast shooters

the hairless dog
did not bark in the night,
gelid Angels chanting hymns,
maybe it's just my frozen nerves,
or the eyeballs hi ding ing
under the covers

don't think I'll accomplish much
less than more,
cause I am
never gonna get past my bed
Jan 10, 2016
  Sep 2019 pitch black god8
Still Crazy
every word birthed and in format,
crafted by this mans poor
life motoring skills,
is the sole fault of his fault lines,
all taken, this responsibility

but the good that transverses the
arteries and veins of his profferings,
fair credit shared now and then,
for those that listen to these,
his poetic heartbeats,
raise him up to more than he can be...
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