I am that scruffy urchin trembling in the winter chill, with hungry eyes as wide as your fancy dinner plate, staring with an empty longing
The old man, who thinks he’s dying, approached me with these words. I am sorry
Not so long ago I was convinced you were the culprit, the masked robber of my sacred trust.
Sometimes I worry what you’ll thi… about these words I spew upon this… Not often. Not for very long. What of the form and structure?
I stared at her like she was a painting, as if I had all day and night to drink in every curve and contour
I met a man who told me that he’s looking for the way he might become more free, less encumbered in his life. Poor me, poor me, poor me;
If I could steal you out of time, there would be no place to hide. I would finish what was started when you left me here to die. It’s not vengeance which I seek,
My father has come to dinner; He does not knock. He is not welcome. He is dead. Yet he insists on joining me
Late at night; another helter-skelter day, having flown off unexpectedly into alien domains of disarray. So many urgent moments
You think you know me, that figment dancing in your mind’… You think you understand me, that puppet dangling from imaginar… You believe you know what’s best f…
The storm is brewing. I smell it in the air. I am panicking. I can barely breathe. I fear this tempest
Something whispers, certainly not nothing. A subtle impetus to choose to stir and rise
My beloved, she has abandoned me. What’s left is a stark white canva… that repels application of hue or… Hopelessly, I gaze into the bleak… She is gone,
It seems the only way to reach the mountain-top, is through the desert wasteland. It is only there that one might come to learn
For those who only know oasis it must be difficult to fathom another way of life beyond the wal… amidst the shifting dunes. Those that follow gypsy trails