Monday, January 22, 2007


a soul floats
through the univers-O
through the goofy dream

a wildgrace calls us
a goldenrose awakens us

EACH time we see
we fly

Friday, January 12, 2007

A Little Boy is Sort of a Wolf

there is a bleeding not everyone feels
some are holding handguns to their heads
not a way to a long, happy life

there is something to be said
about taking a strange route
you never know how nowhere gives light
blueprints for the void

there is lots of birth and hot air
without anyone knowing
over the border roses are burning in the sky