The stars are but tears shed by a miriad of unrequited dreams; each sparks with fire and guides its light homeward when a dream is revealed

I like my thingshurried and haunted. Night teadarktime. Sacred geometry, secret geometrypetal-flame whisper: I am here, and you aren't.

...at morning, I'm unruffled - I'll sit with my tea and Muse Cat beside me and listen to the soft chime of the grandfather clock...

For those who sense and comprehend,They know that heaven is at hand;The river blue which stream and stream,It has the pictures of my dream.

Take the blinders from your visiontake the padding from your earsand confess you've heard me crying and admit you've seen my tears.

...my dreams are tangled in images of stars and clouds and firelight - we go camping at night - it's my lucid dream of being with you...

Let bricks of truth fill the skies and send their walls of conformity crashing downAnd let the heavens echo with the blows of our liberation

My mind: a thousand hungry daughters,my harlot heritage.Marbles: lost, no rescue search.Your heart: blooming thorns,and a stolen grocery cart.

There's two ways to become a famous Poet, find that one person that knows somebody, that knows somebody, that knows somebody.Or die trying

Once in a while i am struckall over again... by just how blue the sky appears .. on wind-played autumn mornings, blue enoughto bruise a heart.

Laugh until you cry;never let your eyes look dryThis is not a matter of joke;this is all to provokeour sense of humourLife is its own consumer!

... paint in blue and black...sometimes gray - the colors of night - occasionally I surprise you with a mustard yellow, but then, I am a poet ...

I do not want to sleepfor fear I might miss the twinkle of the brightest starfor fear I may never knowhow the moon glimmers, in the darkest hour.

(1)BEING A POETis like opening a car door& exposing yourself.(2)BEING A GOOD POETis like opening the door& exposing the passengeras well.

I’m looking for youinto that silverspoon where I taste my reflection to feel the touch of your untouchables- from the poem "Looking For You