Yesterday and tomorrow cross and mix on the skyline. The two are lost in a purple haze. One forgets, one waits.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, if the women don't get you then the whiskey must.
Poetry is a search for syllables to shoot at the barriers of the unknown and the unknowable.
Poetry is the journal of a sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air.
POETRY: A sliver of the moon lost in the belly of a golden frog.
I'm an idealist. I don't know where I'm going, but I'm on my way.