Her love was his compass

Her love
was his compass,
her blessing
his disguise,
in the pale blue light
of moon and
mother night,
her arms, his refuge
from the stormy sky
she spoke to him
like stars,
light years from afar
she held him
as the cosmos
were destined to align

Sanibel Florida

Life’s worthwhile

Every single day

She reminds me

Life’s worthwhile

An Honest Admission

I’m basically looking for the right words to tell a story

that creates sense of all my past mistakes.

I’m an idiot for sure.

But I’m a passionate idiot.

Finger Paint and Prose

She put down her pen

and released herself

to the world, renewed.

Purpose became her passion

finger paint and prose,

the poet taught them miracles.

The finest ever known.

a caged artist

I never met an artist I didn’t like

I just tasted their breathe

from an arms length away


when they told me drunkenly

to go to hell

at least I knew they meant it

so while she tore off her clothes

like a caged animal

in the center of a Williamsburg high-rise

a slave to her own bizarre fashion

I could see it there, her passion

exhibited like a gallery of fine art

and her hair

painted in oils hyper-realistic

she would drive herself wild

though couldn’t quite blend her canvas

into the madness she became

hysterical so

closing the cage I left


there wasn’t more I could do

than allow her the respect and dignity

to clean up her own mess.