Cactus Hides

There are people with cactus hides
that walk across the desert sand
where others would
if not for fear that they would die.

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The Mad King of Araucani

My vast kingdom, larger than France and Spain
led a crusade against conquest and genocide,
I did not have birth right, nor did I take it by sword,

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The Fool

Should my heart suddenly explode
and cease it’s earthly needs,
and being stubborn leave for me

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You Can Do This — A Prayer

To think a mans fate is decided
not by the battle won or lost
but by the heart alone is more

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All the World is a Common Thing

I woke in twilight’s magic hour,
between the pitch of night,
pulled down over the land and sky

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The Hazel Tree – version 2

We do not know exactly what is believed
until the moment it is placed at feet,
there is either faeries at the bottom,

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The Hazel Tree

With roots extending to the underworld
the hazel at the borders hides fairies,
and all creation is astir.

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The Sword That Cuts Down Scepter and State

When among men will come the cost of deeds?
what mad pursuit of silk and gold is this
that we, we happy breed of men have let

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To Future Lands

I’ve heard the talk of proof that is puzzling you

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Yellowish pad

My breath fogs the window,
some promise out of science
has arrived,

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On Loss

I wished to see your smile,
but got only pain the while—

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Visions of Dust and Dirt

It’s things grown old that hurt my bones,
a spread of green can easily fold
to visions of dust and dirt, and worse.

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Blue Birds of Love

If I)
May make my heart

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Chicago Poet

Among the smoke and fog of a coal fire,
the steel and the city

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Doomed

Some say the times are changing fast,
Some say they always have.

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The Gallows

Let the elite country clubs become grave yards.
Come and erect the boards,
and let low the noose, and let known the deeds

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Should I Compare You To a Winters Morn – Sonnet 18 Shakespeare Mirror

Should I compare you to a winters morn?
You are more bitter and more discontent

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A Pharaohs Rise

Among the worlds most pressing ruins I have seen
artifacts come rising as phoenixes
to part their form from the fierce driven wind
and sand that whirls around in its dying

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The Stillest Things

The summer crests and meets
fleeting flecks of dyeing dog days,
an era vanishes into the past—

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Tracing that Long Path

Our lives pass like cherry blossoms,
snapped from hurried branch to ripened fruit.
We flit from first to fledged to finished,
put out to ash one hundred years an instant.

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