Poetry
Poetry
A Poem on the Wind
A poem on the wind lands wherever it’s taken, whether in your thoughts or mine, or on the dry red soil, glittering in the summer heat. I can see the last of the species scribbling away in a fevered dream as the sun burns the ground, furnace in the lungs, vivid colors flooding the mind,
Keep Moving
Just keep moving, across the open field and into the woods. Don’t look back until you reach the sea. Run until your lungs are ready to burst and every nerve shoots red-hot fire through your lost body, the soft sand under your feet, the salty air welcoming you home to the only place you understand,
Looking for Real
The world I have come to know is just an artificial display of holographic shapes gliding across my line of sight and disappearing into nothingness, tedious reflections in a dull mirror. But every so often, someone comes along who is dramatically different, a living, breathing person, warm, radiant, true, and connected to my inner experience.
Get the Message
A poem is an equation written on the wind, riding on memory from one seer to the next, ancient as the spoken word. I can see the last of the species scribbling away in a feverish dream as the sun burns the ground, furnace in the lungs, every color flooding the mind, recalled in silence.
The Paladin
Oh my lady with waves of red,Thoughts of you race through my head. A heart of gold cloaked in snow, The fallen angel who lost your glow. Taken from you through devil’s rage, Soul entrapped in unyielding cage. Lured in by lover’s tender kiss, Betrayed by love in a secret tryst. Driven by pain and drunken mourn,Once again pricked by
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Novels and Collected Works
A Poem on the Wind
A poem on the wind lands wherever it’s taken, whether in your thoughts or mine, or on the dry red soil, glittering in the summer heat. I can see the last of the species scribbling away in a fevered dream as the sun burns the ground, furnace in the lungs, vivid colors flooding the mind,
Keep Moving
Just keep moving, across the open field and into the woods. Don’t look back until you reach the sea. Run until your lungs are ready to burst and every nerve shoots red-hot fire through your lost body, the soft sand under your feet, the salty air welcoming you home to the only place you understand,
Looking for Real
The world I have come to know is just an artificial display of holographic shapes gliding across my line of sight and disappearing into nothingness, tedious reflections in a dull mirror. But every so often, someone comes along who is dramatically different, a living, breathing person, warm, radiant, true, and connected to my inner experience.
Get the Message
A poem is an equation written on the wind, riding on memory from one seer to the next, ancient as the spoken word. I can see the last of the species scribbling away in a feverish dream as the sun burns the ground, furnace in the lungs, every color flooding the mind, recalled in silence.
The Paladin
Oh my lady with waves of red,Thoughts of you race through my head. A heart of gold cloaked in snow, The fallen angel who lost your glow. Taken from you through devil’s rage, Soul entrapped in unyielding cage. Lured in by lover’s tender kiss, Betrayed by love in a secret tryst. Driven by pain and drunken mourn,Once again pricked by