a year is a number
that holds in its cracks
a million meanings
and life is just that
moments tied together
with mismatched bows
A Short Poem
The holographic son,Spinning, permeating in my vision,Permanently spinning our…
A poem —
An unnatural thing, swirlingSearching, in the windA plastic vulture hurtling…
A poem
That bobbing red handlewas further than it lookedBody achingSalt water in mouthEyes closed, submerged…
Did you read the papers?Language makes sock-puppet Out of meaning…
I look out toward the horizonfeet slowly drifting alongtoward an archway of unknowna life unknownwhere am I going?where have I been…
I don’t know who I wanna be, I just don’t. Imposed thoughts swarm in my head, frightening real feelings. The compass of intuition turns…
A drumbeat is nothing but the pronouncement of rhythmand rhythm is nothing but the…
I first learnt the word staring at a blurry black white picture of Mata Hari, dancing in Paris, nude…