A Peacock in a forest of trees so high, dances in its bluish magnificence - the long glittering tail spreads like a fan and the crown, like tiny flowers offered to the Gods, sparkle in the dainty Sun. But women who chop off their glistening hair! *** Art by Christy Freeman
Sleeping the weariness off in the evening after soaking my lungs with nicotine - I have a clean bed with purple flower patterns on the bedsheet - I dream of this girl who has: emerald green eyes through which she glances wistfully at the leaves soaked by the kisses of rain. She holds my hand… Continue reading Convincingly Real Dreams: Part II
You ask: what have you been up to? I have nothing to say. Things could have been better, If I was with you, braiding your hair, or filling my lungs with the sweet scent that you always carry around you, or steal your anklets, hide it, somewhere beyond your reach - so that you beg,… Continue reading Casual Answers to Casual Questions About Personal Well-being
Looking for a girl, waiting at the corner of the street - to say hello, to warmly greet. I have a cigarette in hand. Smoking, I puff out smoke in the warm, evening air. A cab stops; she gets down; pays her fare. She wears red heels, stumbles, as she walks to the corner shop.… Continue reading Waiting On a Girl
I met her in a smoke filled room in the cold of December; she pushed me on the bed - promised an evening I'd remember. But she had to leave me zipped - said I was one of those kinds; who just can't get the women they love off their minds. So she passed on… Continue reading Honky Tonkness
Women could save my soul from darkness. But then they should know how to hold the lamp steady in a storm.
I have written poems — many — reclined in my bed. This one I write, standing; my body firm with the blows of your memory. It's almost midnight.