A pantoum after Ram
Sometimes love stands invisible beside us. It holds our hand as others spurn us. When others scold and scorn us, love holds up an umbrella to protect us. It is always there for us to pick us off the floor, when others have torn and are now through with us. Love still waits silently by our side.
Here lies the fallen poet who could no longer create beauty with words, whose sentences lost the stardust that once wove syllables into magic spells.
Somewhere along the road, nature became just nature
The muse unaware
Why I write
The subject suggestive
Writing proceeds smoothly. I stayed up late last night and wrote the 2000 words I usually set as my goal for the day. That goal goes up to 5000 once the countdown hits zero. Today I’m at about half that, but I plan to finish the chapter I’m working on when I get home…
Mientras contemplaba a mi esposa acostada en el suelo de nuestra habitación, ella me ve con ojos de arrepentimiento, como si acabase de cometer un crimen digno de un Libro de autoría por Agatha Christie.
here, between my palms
spinning worldsscratched on paper,realitiesonly for theirimagined;
I’m looking out on a bright evening — the first in a few — at a sky swept clean of cloud. The ocean, as far as…
Recently I’ve been working on canvas and landing page for a Muse business.