writing is lonely[...]

but most of the time you are in a room by yourself, you know

writers spend more time in rooms, staying awake in quiet rooms, than they do hunting lions in africa

so, it's a bad life for a person because it's so lonely and because it consists of such highs and lows, and there's not always anywhere to take these emotional states [...]

it's a life that's tough to sustain without falling prey to some kind of beguiling diversion that's not good for you

contrary to a generally held view, poetry is a very powerful tool because ....poetry is the conscience of a society [...]

no individual poem can stop a war — that's what diplomacy is supposed to do

but poetry is an independent ambassador for conscience:

it answers to no one, it crosses borders without a passport, and it speaks the truth

that's why ... it is one of the most beautiful and powerful of the arts

when you
hug your
soulmate

the rest of the
world and
their chance
is too late

she covers you
like the moon
covers the sun
during an
eclipse

for the
remainder
of your life
you only beg
to kiss
her lips

a soulmate
is fate

don't let
it wait

know the difference between sleeping with someone and sleeping with someone you love

i love you
ain't no
pick up line

You cannot
be lost
on a
road that is straight.

So if you
see a friend
without a smile,
give them one
of yours.

And remember,
all people smile
in the
same language.

when it's hot
eat a root beer
popsicle

shut off the ac
and roll the
windows down

let that
summer sun shine...

when there
was no more you

i needed
a double shot
of that
heart break *****

fire and
gunpowder
do not
sleep
together

One meets
his destiny
often ...

in
the road
he takes
to avoid
it.

She's the first drop of rain on my tongue in the desert

She's the shade tree that spares me from the open skied sunbursts

She's the log on the fire that crackles and glows brightly

She's that drink you desire by the fire you need nightly

She's the sugar in my coffee that sweetens my morning

She's the fantasy in my dreams that makes me so *****

She's the desire that somehow showed up without warning

tie
   your
      troubles
        to
          helium
            balloons
              and
                let
                  them
                     go

I'm just a poet of circumstance.

I'm simply a poet of happenstance.

Years of sharing myself with only me.

Years of just wanting to at long last be free.

I may not be the poet that you asked for.

But I may be the poet that you now need at everyday's door.

trying to tie my shoes,
clumsily,
not able to work out the logic of it, fumbling,
as my father stands there

his anger growing over a son who can’t even do
this simplest thing for the first time

can’t even manage
the knot to keep his shoes on

you think someone’s
going to tie your shoes for you the rest of your life?

no, i answer, forty-five years later, tying my shoe,
hands trembling with this memory

my father and all those years of childhood
not being able to work out how he loved me....
a knot so tight it has taken all my life
to untie

muses....
       muses
   everywhere.

anywhere
     that i venture,
         i dare.

in the
    ample *****
      of her
         mouth watering
          bare.

against a
     creamsicle sky...
and its
        delicious tasting
            air.

a stroll
    through the midway
      at the carnival
         or county
            fair.

the captivating
     essence
       of her velvet
silken
             hair.

naked before you
    she magnificently
         stands and all
            you can do is
gulp.....and
               stare.

a muse that i
    want to make
        love with....
her treasure's
             so mesmerizing ..
                 so completely
                rare.

and
  if
    i
      fell
         in
           love...
             i
               wouldn't
                     care

Delicious fruit
can quickly turn
into sand

From pulp
to grain
slipping through
one's hand

Morning stars together sing
as jays of blue
take flight on wing.
The breeze is limp
as oaks stand still.
The greying sky with rain now fills.
A rainbow falls
upon the ground.
A colorful thud without a sound.
As nightfall crawls across the moon.
I stir my coffee
with spoon in June.

My love, I adore when your jeweled eyes
captivate every fiber of my being

When your perfect lips whisper words that only I can hear from miles away

When your slightest touch brings me to volcanic eruptions with lava overflowing

My love, you are a steady stream of sweaty summer nights that I hoped would never end

You are ...my love

You are my sunrise
You are my sunset

You are the sparkle that lives inside my eyes

a kiss
without
the hug
is like
the flower
without
the fragrance

For years
    I have longed
       for you.
Your lips
     your touch
        your love.
Every passing day
      my wanting
         for you
           only grew.
As the sun sets
       on the stars
         tonight
            i wish,
for you to be
        delivered
           to me
            from above.
And at long last
          I can share
            my burning
       love
               for you.