Sun is going out
white lily sad hangs head
unseen tears blurred view.



Shell✨🐚

The poet is an architect
he constructs sentences.

The poet is a cook
he mixes words.

The poet is a philosopher
he reflects on what he writes.

The poet is a student
he learns words.

But above all.

The poet has no definition
he defines himself.

across my face.

I saw spring coming
in the meadow
where the wildflowers
whisper to the wind.

found freedom on a snowcapped mountain top,

smiled to the child offering violets
cradled in her tiny hands

and when she smiles to me

her joy ripples like sunlight
across the sea of love.

the curtain is lifted.

the soul becomes visible

(always in the wild places
in my heart.)

The moon calls to me tonight—
I cannot resist her charms.
I slip beyond the confines of my room
To let the evening soak into my soul.

A full moon spills her silver light,
Darkness braided with her glow.
Rocky earth crunches beneath my feet,
Each step alive with sound and scent.

The high desert hums its song:
Stars glimmer, coyotes cry.
A noisy stillness fills the air,
As daylight’s brightness fills the sky.

My heaven is green grass,
And scent of sagebrush and hay.
I belong in this moonlit nirvana,
Where constellations burn like fire.

i want to dissolve into the ocean waves
               lose what little identity i have
the soft splashing
the high tides
                      will death be my liberator
                 from this endless suffocation