Brief thaw after long, deep frost.An ambush for chilled cheeks and toes.
“Ceci n’est pas une pipe”
You’d like to know why.
Ever the lady,she neatly weavesthe tattered threadsof her torn lifeinto a patternof false smiles,displayedconvincingly…
Once I was a young man,all I had to do was smile.
Whatever is given can be taken.
Life is mostly misery soupdoled out every dayconcentration camp style.
The play’s the thing…
The show begins. The onion peels.Birth begets a slow unraveling.An accrual of…
The plausible illusion of realitycomforts like a a worn shoe.Take any old thing, call it real,wear it as comfortable…
after Ezra Pound
Take wing, my songs,to both young and old.
