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Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

All Beings Considered

I Long For Stars

The Best Revenge (For All Your Critic's Critiques)

Your Next New Dying Black Swan

The Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)

Nothing's Sadder Than A Rose

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

All Too Clearly Now

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

Informed Through Pain

Sometimes In Losing I Have Gained A Lot

A Man Of The Clouds

The Birds Are Such Un-numbering Creatures of Distant Hitchcockian Past



Didn't You Learn That First Lesson In Kindergarten?

They Grew (A Poem From The Imaginarium)

Cuba Libre


Max on the max

The Little Bird Said

The Factory of Resentments

When My Blues Are Gone

Expect Yourself



Silver-Tongued Devil

Within The Green Wind Becomes The Fall

Think On This--IF YOU WOULD

Open Lines

You Got Your Lilly Back

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Perhaps I Too, Was Frozen

in July he came home with nothing to live for
and damn near died in the scope of a rifle

in August our sweet cat took ill and died
his demise leaving us bereft and miserable

in September, more fore-shadowings of doom
clues of certain guarantees being over
(another friend buried)

in October my girlfriend left for good
tricked into moving
while her home was sold out from under her

in November my brother nearly starved to death
eating no sit-down Thanksgiving dinner

in December I was given official family walking papers
irreconcilable indifference, the treason

in January I knew it was the New Year
but I couldn't look forward
much less look backwards

then wretched winter came
breaking down all the trees
making us shut-ins
layering the roads with impassable snow and black ice
in a city with barely 30 plows
and no no-how to get rid of it

homeless babies died the very hour they were born
homeless men and women froze solid to the ground
spring couldn't come soon enough
for a world that badly needed love
and thawing out

I couldn't feel my heart beating
nor hear its comforting steadiness
perhaps, I too,
was frozen

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