was it a dream
did it really happen
love and beyond passion
both sides
of different things
and we got to play
in the garden
with the ardor poems
joy and sorrow

i cry
when the phone rings
because i know
it will never be
you

here to clap
until tomorrow
when
the sun shines
everything evolving
a painting
almost
done

take charge and
get
in control
with some dignity

first of all
poetry ought
to rhyme
and i guess
secondly use words like
shibboleth or
shilly-shally
like a litterbug
we
littoral
and watch the stars
collect and
escape to a new
galaxy or just
meet
and have a delightful
snack

lost my hand
some kind of robert
johnson story
however
no soul was
bartered i know
not mine

tony could write
about sorrow
as if a
tear

you know i keep
pouring
gasoline
on myself

smoking cigarettes
and
listening
to guitar and

your voice

scares me sometimes
it is just
the way you
move

i know it was flawed. i understand there were parts left for you and your imagination. so i will take the blame,and move.
wondering what could make this better. practice,of course,lots of practice. it is what i will do. stare for awhile,because i need to focus.
when you stop and think and draw for awhile,as if night existed,without light. easy is really hard. sit next to me just long enough to see.

somebody
turned it on
then
went out for
beer

plans are versatile

teaching my toes
to play
piano
finally

evolution or
biology become
united
functioning as one

i cry real tears
and the point is
they
never run out

bury me already
soak me first in water
overnight
then
feed me daily